When the blow lands, she does not flinch. She pulls the bat back, bringing it down again. And again.

Tears roll hot down her cheeks.

Again. Again.

Stop.

The nails come to a stop in the side of Edward's crushed head, the board standing straight up despite no longer being held.

Rosalind is on the metal floor, crumpled and sobbing as the blood from the two corpses dribbles down through the grates.

She is alone.

In spite of herself, she reaches out and holds 'Robert's' hand.