Noctisardor Bypass YOU'RE FIT TO LEARN THE MEANING OF A BEATDOWN, MADNESS, CHAOS IN THE BRAIN

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Home was the last place Wren found herself wanting to go. She knew not where @Akavir had gone, if he followed; she did not care. It didn't matter.
Nothing did. Not now, not anymore.
In her head rang Silvertongue's voice, the shattered cries proclaiming her inability to be loved, to return it; Akavir, how hard he tried to get her to listen and the blood and that fucking woman who looked at her as if she was a predator all because she sought to love someone who could not love her back and she was so fucking stupid—
And what did she have left? Who was she, how was she to feel now that the only two people she had ever dared to truly let under her skin had all but cast her aside? And why was she still hoping, praying that Silvertongue's mind would change?
Her heart thrums and tightens and squeezes, her paws thunder clumsily as grass turns to vicious woodland and the walls of the bypass close around her. She knew not how long she'd been running for. The scabbed wounds along her front lash out and threaten to reopen and without even realizing it she is screaming and there's every horrible scar and sweet memory, every time her father's teeth met fresh skin and every velvety laugh Silvertongue gave her, Colt and Marcus's and Silvertongue's abandonment and Akavir's faith in her and oh dear god her ma would be so ashamed—
Again and again does she strike the helpless spruce in front of her with a blind fury, teeth and claw and torso beating against it and yet it did nothing. It fixed nothing.
And by the time her body could take no more of the abuse and her breath grows labored, there are no more tears to cry and her paws tuck her face under them.
Maybe she'll let the vultures make a meal out of her. The flowers and fungus that would turn her flesh to soil would be pretty, wouldn't they?