you rip open the cave of her chest, snap each rib one by one, and you see nothing but bloodied shards of crystalline beauty embedded in her remaining lung.

she looks at you, and manages a smile, though it is dark and red and twisted with malice; she whispers, she rasps: "there's nothing there, not anymore."

a pause, a rattling cough; you watch her lung flux and shudder: "there never was."

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