Everything was dark, for a second. When she woke up, the only thing she could smell was her own-burnt flesh and the feeling of water boiling her lungs. Yet, she couldn't die or find peace for herself. But she felt something, a caress where the skin should be, as her face was disfigured enough to lack skin for a cheek. She didn't have an eyelid where her only eye was left, so the colors regained place in her view.
—Kurohana —a voice softly called —wake up.
The only thing she saw was a white void, and a man, covered completely in darkness. His hair was long, and He wore a crown of thorns, and he had only one eye visible in all of his face.
—Look at you —he said, helping her to sit up—, Once pretty, once perfect.
—Where? Where is Adam? —Kurohana asked, weak, impotent.
—Alive, unlike you.
—Where am I?
—This is hell. We have no space left. Heaven will be full of sinners too.
Kurohana was too weak to even react properly, her only eyeball left falling from its socket. Her skeletal face, only covered with muscle and lack of skin, was slowly deteriorating more.
—But we could change that —said the darkness cloaked man— you could.
—Why? —she asked, as she couldn't help but crave a purpose, even in such pain.
—Because you would have a purpose in this absurd eternity. I'll retrieve your face if you will to have a purpose, or you may rot in this endless void.
Kurohana, weak and disoriented, blindly touched her face, feeling and exploring what she had left as a face. She could only crave the need to have a purpose, as it was the only thing that could save her from the infinite pain.
—I'll please —Kurohana said.
Slowly, her face regained flesh, returning to whatever was before the incident. The pain was gone, as so was the man. But a voice resounded in her head: "It's meal time." As she sat there, she saw a table in front of her, upon it resting a black bowl. She stood up and looked down at it. On the table was a spoon, napkins, and a bowl with red soup and meat. What could be described more specifically: Blood, thick and wine red, and upon the middle rested her face, not her reflection, piles of flesh and eyes that were hers. In the reflection she could see on the blood, she could see her face was different now. She sat down at a chair in front of the table, aware that she would eat her own face, her past one. With trembling hands, she began to eat her flesh, alone in the endless void.