Going back
She drifted in New York. The first week away was a blur and she alternated between frantic socialising and staying in her room at the hotel and cutting herself off. She did not allow herself to think too deeply about anything, and her future was just that, the future; something to be considered but not just yet.
She felt no guilt whatsoever; no emotional turmoil, no regrets, no self- recrimination. Nothing. She just lived for the moment and slept when she felt cut off from humanity. She refused any contact with home and moved through New York in a disconnected way. She enjoyed it but despised the shallowness whilst acknowledging her inability to connect with humanity in more than superficial and selfish sort of way. She slept off the excesses and did not dream.
Boadicea's Chariot 