[ by this point she's moved on from her fingernails, her hands — all the way up her scuffed and scratched forearms, where indentations marr her flesh, places where she's pulled foreign bodies out of herself, but they keep coming back.
she tries to answer but she can't stop scrubbing, she can't. ]
...It's not my skin anymore, [ she hisses out breathlessly, ]it's not. Elektra —
no subject
she tries to answer but she can't stop scrubbing, she can't. ]
...It's not my skin anymore, [ she hisses out breathlessly, ] it's not. Elektra —