She turns her hands over in the soft glow of lamp light. Sitting on the cheap thrift-store couch with the ugly design and uncomfortable padding. But she’s on a waitresses salary and it’s all she can do to keep up on rent and food.

Her eyes follow the twin scars that trail down her palms. Her last souvenir of a life she ran from.

She closes her eyes and remembers stumbling out of the mansion and kneeling on the earth she had sacrificed her heart to save. The merciless sun beating against her back and it was then that she noticed the hot pain lashed against her palms. A wound imprinted into her skin from when Angelus taunted his victory and she caught the blade of his sword between her palms. She couldn’t shake his haunting voice from her thoughts and finally let herself cry.

When the sky creased into darkness she raised her hands to wipe her eyes dry and crimson blood combined with clear tears.

She opens her eyes now and the wound is nearly healed. Soon the scars will completely disappear and she wonders if without the scar tissue she’ll forgot why the pain won’t go away