Geneva couldn't stop herself. She felt as though she was hurtling toward a dead-end with this, but there was no other way for her to go. The figurative walls of her own pain and anger and sadness were closing in on her, and the only way to escape was to let that dread energy break through the surface and come crashing into whatever stood in its way. She didn't know what she hoped to accomplish with this; but there was no hope in her mind, no way of fixing things. Just damaging them beyond their current condition. Geneva didn't feel like a force of creation, didn't feel like something with the ability to create and give life, whether to the children lost between them, their failing relationship, or to the twisted caricature of the creature she had once been. She felt like a black hole; she felt like destruction.
Her out-of-character actions were not met by paralyzing shock. No, she had known even as she had shot toward him that he would not take this lying down. That was something she loved about him...something she had loved about him, at least. She couldn't be certain what she felt now, aside from shame. She could not put a name to the amalgam of ugly emotion that swirled inside of her, a vortex of pain that swallowed every other thing. There was something achingly familiar about this completely unrecognizable mess they were in. There was something that resonated with looking into his enraged emerald gaze, and feeling the booming echo of his voice on the rise. Maybe it was the way he felt under her hands - concrete, solid, real, an affirmation that she had not simply dreamed of loving him before waking to this nightmare. The reverberation of her love from a time before remained in her memory. If it existed now, she couldn't find it; she could only feel the pale presence of its ghost.
That wasn't enough to completely quiet the confusing surge of the broken pieces of her old life, trying to find a way to re-situate themselves amidst the chaos in her mind. But it was enough to make her drops her hands to her sides. Wide-eyed, she let her arms hang loosely, hands open and fingers slack as the violent energy that had possessed her before left her empty. Her ears folded back against her skull and her shoulders rounded. Geneva stared at him as though she was trying to look away, but she couldn't. It wasn't shock necessarily that had done this to her, or even shame. But they both had a hand in her quiet now. When she couldn't bear the few seconds that passed between them, she widened the distance between them, one backward step at a time, until her back rested against the door.