She loved him. With a love that burned like a raging fire, a love that consumed her from within, igniting her very soul, bringing out a fierce passion that she never knew existed. She loved every fibre of his being with every fibre of her own. Their love was like fireworks, beautiful, explosive, but destructive, short lived. For a love that rages never remains. And soon, all that was left was a shell of who she once was, a smoking pile of ashes, so different from the beautiful, fiery girl. That’s what love like that does. It burns. It ravages. It destroys.