Alone at home, her thoughts sometimes turned. And it was why? Why from a friend?

He sat on the other side of the world. It was not why? It was a deep craving. A craving to hear him beg for the pain to stop. To put down the hammer, covered with the blood and flesh from broken fingers. To stop the shocks of electricity burning his skin and sending numbness through him

Into battle

She used words as weapons and her head was full of blunt instruments.