Puddles of it, then rivers, then oceans, and she didn't have that kind of self-loathing in her. Fighter? Right, that didn't feel like fucking fighting. It felt like bullshit, even though it didn't come with anything like details. She didn't know who it was that was washing all that blood away, but it didn't fucking matter. Everything was violence now, and she was starting to think there wasn't a fuck alive who wouldn't hurt someone in the right circumstances.