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She stared blankly at the door that he had just went out of. Despite her surefire words, she felt so strange. Confused.

Her fingertips traced over where his had moments before. When she had told him it didn't work anymore. That she didn't love him.

Her brain throbbed forth memories of the last six years. Memories of them together. All he had sacrificed and done for her. Shocking, just how many there were. Then again, perhaps not.

Shocking more so, how her heart betrayed her so treacherously. It wasn't breaking. It wasn't filled with mind-numbing pain. No guilt flooding through her veins. She knew, somewhere in the depths of her mind, what she just done was wrong. Very wrong. And everything she stood for was against the few words of dismissal she had spoken.

The whole situation didn't affect her. Didn't pain her. But how did it make him feel? Michael was on his way home. Feeling rejected. Possibly more confused than her. He must be hurt. He must be angry. Scared?

While she felt nothing. Blank. Even knowing the affects of her actions, she couldn't muster up emotions. Feelings. She couldn't even make herself crave for the return of her emotions. But she knew. She knew she should be. She knew that the old Nikita would never settle for this. She'd be enraged. She'd be furious. She'd be beyond all words for hellish anger invented so far. She knew, but she wasn't now.

The memories. The days, the nights of past. They continued to lap at the edges of her consciousness. Like a sound clip, her last words started to play in her ears on repeat. Over and over she listened to her own voice give Michael the emotional death sentence.

Don't. It doesn't work. I don't love you anymore.

She tried to wish with her whole heart that she didn't mean it. That those words weren't true. But staring at the insides of her heart, she knew it was true. There wasn't an ounce of love in there. For anyone. For anything. It was empty. Completely void and dark.

The words kept up, trying to torture her. To remind her of what she was missing. What she was destroying. She watched as the most important bridge in her life quickly went up in flames. Burning bridges, and she didn't even care.

She didn't care. She wasn't angry. She wasn't guilt-ridden.

She felt dead.

Never, never in all her days, had she ever thought a day like this would ever come. That a day like this could even exist.

Michael's words had been soft as silk. He had silently pleaded with her to come back to him. And she had refused. His touch was tender. Concerned.

Her skin had formed goosebumps in response, but she didn't feel it. Not really. It didn't reach deep down like it usually did. It didn't make her melt inside.

It made her feel cold. His words were empty in her ears. His touch was nothing. She was finally immune to him. She was numb towards him. Numb towards the whole world which considered her dead. Well, if she wasn't before, she surely was now. Dead. To the world. To Michael. To herself.

She knew she should feel miserable. But she didn't.