"I don't want it to help me." Maybe there was a part of Claire that wanted it to help, but most of her was focused just on that revenge, not caring of the consequences. "I'm not doing it to feel better."
The last three fingers of one hand still firmly clenching his shirt, she plucked - fretfully or absently, it wasn't clear - at it with her forefingers. "There's- After I saw- When I was out there- something shattered, Dean, and I don't know how to heal it. But this, doing this? It's not to fix that."
Even she realized that harming Sylar wouldn't flip some magic switch. "I just want him to scream, to hurt, to feel nonstop pain for every last minute of his life." She closed her eyes briefly then, the images coming back even brighter, and it should have been nightmares. It should have been. "And I can't- there's not- I know it could fuck things up more, but I can't seem to care."