Lucy's death was practically instant.

Her head had cracked open as the impact of the explosion had thrown her to the ground, her eardrums bursting simultaneously, and she'd only been able to scream for a fraction of a second before she'd been ripped apart. She hadn't felt any pain. None that she'd had time to register anyway.

But then she'd woken up.

Afterwards Lucy would wonder at why nobody had thought of a stronger word than 'pain'. What she'd felt was so very far beyond 'pain' she couldn't find a word for it. 'Agony' was nowhere near the mark either…

What she'd felt was so intense, so all consuming, so horrific that she forgot who and where she was. She couldn't remember how to breathe, let alone how to scream, and her body… was that her body?… What was once her body flailed so violently and with such desperation it was like it was trying to throw the overpowering sensation off of itself. Everything was hot and cold and pink and green and bitter and sickly and altogether completely unbearable.

Finally lips opened and a mouth gasped, gulping in air, and what was once Lucy sat up screaming. She looked down as she screamed and saw her body piecing itself together, bit by bit. Bones and tissue and blood and nerves and muscle and skin all knitting together and forming limbs and digits.

The freshly grown arm she used to prop herself up gave way and she collapsed, thankfully falling unconscious.