[She doesn't scream when she sees him. She doesn't have enough breath to scream. It feels as if it was violently expelled from her chest. Her hand reaches up weakly, covering her silent, gasping shock.
She was standing, but suddenly she is on her knees in the middle of the park, eyes focused on the screen before her. There is a tremor in her—a part that responds to death and blood in a way it never used to. A way that recalls memories of the past. But no less of the horror stems from compassion. Anyone harmed in such a way would be shocking and horrible. But that red hair... Even with his face obscured, she knows that man.
She hardly realizes she's set her communication device to record.]