Ragged breathing, the cowed posture. The signs of pain, a sagging position against a wall, eyes cloudy from something that could and should not be written or spoken. Words spilled, dream-like, weak in a way they had not been since he arrived. Each word took a hitched gasp from aching lungs.

“..Tell me – please, what….” His eyes flutter. “What.. happens to those who leave this place? I must know. Where..where do they go?”