Limping to the front door, she paused at the threshold, remembering what had just transpired moments before, like a flashback:
She screamed, full of rage and pain that had been building up just beneath the surface of her flesh which was covered in cuts and bruises, all the fury and pain was surfacing and breaking free. She swung with all her might and brought the axe down.
The sound of it hitting the flesh of her tormenter was sickening, but she didn't stop. She brought the axe down with every fiber of her being, hacking away again, and again, and again until the face of the body lain out before her was unrecognizable, cut and crushed.
Leaking and oozing blood, so much blood...
The blood was a river on the floor, a lake she was drowning in, suffocating, she didn't care. Whether it was revenge or justice, it was all over now, finally.
Blood splattered the walls, dripping down like rain. She sank to the floor, backed against the wall, soaked in crimson.
The room was redecorated in a deep red, and it surrounded her. She closed her eyes and breathed as though it was her very first breath, staying quiet and still; alive and free.
She had been thrown into the fire and emerged as something more. The same way a phoenix rises from the ashes. She became a phoenix herself.