Hunter.

And that's when I knew...

Weeping, cradling the blackened, cauterized stump of my left forearm, I knew.

You were gone...

I cried in silence; my haggard breathing was the only sound.

I could still feel the sharp, hot metal in my right leg, though it had been removed hours before.

How I longed to hold you in my arms -- my arm -- just one more time. I wished I could tell you I loved you. Your face swam in my tears, and through their salt I could taste your kiss. Remnants of you burned me deeper than the explosions, the ensuing fires, had.

I wept and I bled and I wished for death. God, why couldn't I have just died!

But I didn't die. Not on the outside, anyway.

There was work yet to be done.

I had to find you...

I had to kill you all over, again...

My love. My tragic love. Not alive.

You're not alive.

Why can't you see that you're not alive?

I have to kill you, because you're not alive...

You have to die...

Because you're not alive...