He wanted to do this, he needed to do this. He'd kill as many people as he could to get what he wanted, to find what he wanted, and he didn't care about anyone else and no one would change this. He would think about it though, because that was what this man was asking him to do. But he wouldn't stop.
A pause, watching and he tried to shift underneath the sheet of paper, wishing it would come off so he could stop bleeding. He didn't understand it, he didn't understand anything. Where he was, what he was, who he was, all of this.