She screams as he wrenches her memories from her mind, the holes in her consciousness gaping just enough that everything else inside jumbles, much out order. By the time he vanishes, Emma's confused. The physical injuries don't help and she lays there on the floor, sobbing.
All she can smell beyond her own blood is Bruce's spicy clean scent, as heavy with memories of their affair as with the pain of the moment.
"Bruce..." she cries out, utterly uncertain if she's calling for her lover or her enemy. The only things that's certain is an ache. An emptiness. Something missing.
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