She doesn’t see you anymore. All she sees now is this aggressive, angry part of the woman that she is meant to love and adore. There’s hardly any fragments of your old personality left. You can crack a joke, or two, but what’s a joke when you’ve made someone unrecognisable with a hammer?

Now, it makes her wish that she never brought you along with her. She could’ve took anyone else: Dina, Jesse, even Cat, to some extent, but instead, she took you. It was a mistake. She shouldn’t have brought someone that she loved. She should’ve sent you away when you made it to the theatre. She should’ve used the radio up there and contacted Jackson.

But she didn’t.

You used to be so sweet to her. The type of person who could make her feel happier around you, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. A graze of the hand would make her smile. The way you smiled would make her smile. Yet now, that was gone. There were no smiles.

She knows she’s the one who has more of a reason to be like that. She’s the one who’s out, looking for her father figure’s killers. She feels sorry for you. She never knew killing could change someone so much. But then again, she’s going through it too. You’re both going through it. Maybe she’s projecting it onto you.

“Hey, you wanna take a break?” Her deep voice shatters you from whatever thoughts were running through your head in that moment— and she really can’t tell whether you’re just in the murderous mood or you’re just thinking about something else.

She feels embarrassed asking it. She doesn’t know why. “I’ve got some snack bars if you want one.” Her voice is still low as she trails behind you, her eyes fixed on you.