XV/XXX. Order

She is destructive, she herself notes.

Not to her family, not to her friends, but to herself. To her own mind, to her own physical body, and to her own heart. Her soul itself has been long gone of natural cause, a certain heartbreak that she always refuses to tell to anyone why. The truth is she doesn't even know why she doesn't have a heart, she just woke up one day and she couldn't feel anything but a hovering emptiness in the middle of her chest, between the lungs. Her heart, from then, is out of order.

She does not really care if she is actually destructive to herself. Again, no one has ever loved her, so why should she care about herself? And the part of her body that actually can love herself has already ran away. So the question is: where can she run when she herself no longer care about her?