Everything, everything around you felt blank. Scorched, burned... Pain, pain was all you felt. You vexed her, something you should have ever done. A spider's heart never beats but in the moment of the kill as she would say... But you knew the truth...
As you sit there, pain engulfing you, trying to scream and cry out... No one, nothing would save you. For an assassin known for doing quick and agile work, she sure enjoyed burning you at the stake.
You should have known, you should've guessed.
You're just the same as all the rest.
The ones the chased and those who played...
They were all carried to their graves.
By the spider, purple and black.
Sneaking in the shadows, ready to attack...
You knew, even though her heart may beat... Even though she say she feels "alive..."
No, you knew better than that.

She was never alive.

Stripped of her emotions, she felt nothing. You knew that...
But you couldn't help but wonder, why? Why was she doing this to you? Those questions were immediately replaced by the same statement. Such an obvious previously stated answer; and yet you keep asking yourself, as if there's something more to this tale...

The smell of burning flesh, your cries, she didn't hear a thing...
All she heard was silence. The silence of someone she would never care about. The silence of the little care she gave into pouring gasoline on your ass and setting you ablaze.

She's alive she says...
But you know the truth.
A widowmaker is never alive...
They kill their lovers...
They don't even care that they died.

((Sorry for the short oneshot.))
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