Death.

You fuckin' prick.

Rain.

Bloody rain.

You fuckin' prick.

It had been raining hard for hours now. Pissin' the rain, as grand dad would have said. Thick drops, ones that exploded dramatically and with force. She wagered they were cold, too, though she couldn't feel them. Couldn't feel much of anything these days in truth. 'Cept of course that little bit of bitter resentment towards a certain deity and the world in general. Everyone needed to feel something, after all, even the living impaired.

At least there'd be no one by today. No one to glare at until they got uncomfortable and went away. She sniffled lightly, mostly out of reflex, and shifted a little in the oversized men's winter jacket she wore. Weary green eyes had settled on an oddly-shaped poplar across the way. There was something about that damn tree she didn't like, she'd decided. The way it twisted. Bloody tree.

She'd been sitting on the same wooden slat bench for over a day now. Her consciousness had been returning in small increments for years, all the years she'd lurked in this park as a predator. Though she still hadn't returned fully to her former state of mind, she'd come to the point where she remembered herself. What she used to be, and what she'd become. She hadn't fed since then, and the past while she'd become increasingly lethargic. What was the worst that could happen, she figured. Maybe if she died again it'd stick this time.

"Stupid tree." she muttered to herself.