He exhales when she releases his chin, but the breath stays out, and within a few seconds, he has to remind himself to breathe again. While she paces, he sits up entirely, clutching the blanket to his chest with white-knuckled hands. It's just something to hold. He wishes it made him feel better.

"I wanted it to be fair," he says, before his thoughts are fully formed, before his words are fully formed. They slur, and he takes another gulp of air. "I know that you're there, and I respect that you're there, but she didn't deserve to die alone and miserable like that, it wasn't how it needed to happen, it just wasn't, and I'm sure you'll say that's how it needed to happen, but I have to--"

He drops his eyes. He remembers the unfinished basement floor. Colorful, happy magnets. The look on her face when he told her what was in store. His voice, trembling, grows softer.

"I have to disagree."