Pain Bomb affects her

So by the time I was throwing myself off of the roof and away from the bomb, it had already gone off, and —

PAIN

— the world melted away again.

For an eternity, the agony was all I felt. Liquid fire along every inch of skin, acid poured all over me, every single nerve prodded with a hot iron. I burned, hotter and hotter and hotter, like I was falling into the sun, like every bit of me was being seared away, like if I let it, even my mind would destroyed.

That broken arm had nothing on this.

The landing was jarring, but I barely felt it. I was trying, desperately, hopelessly, to keep myself from falling over some invisible edge, from breaking, and it felt like I was holding onto my sanity by my fingertips. After a moment, the sound of someone screaming, loud enough and shrill enough to wake the dead, started to pierce through the white hot agony of my torment.

It was another few seconds before I realized it was me.

Somehow, someway, I managed to hold on, even as I screamed until my throat was raw and aching. Even as the bruise on my back throbbed, now more painful than it had ever been, I managed to hold on. Even as I wished, wished for something as sweet as an end, I managed to hold on.

And then, finally, the agony began to fade, and I panted, out of breath and exhausted, as I came back to myself and my world became more than just me and that pain.

It was hard to focus. Even though the pain was starting to go away, my arms and legs still trembled from it. I felt as weak as a newborn and twice as vulnerable. A fly could have killed me, for all I could have stopped it, right then.