Once again he gets the sense he's let the other man down. This time, he doesn't have it in him to even think about making it better. He wonders what Liam would have preferred, had he not caved to him. Would he have ultimately stuck through with the lacerations all over? Or would he have eventually caved regardless? He was probably selfish, bringing Liam to sacrifice that choice for someone like him.

His jacket to the floor and his shirt following, he grips the last bit of undershirt and pulls it up over his head, dropping it down too. He's rail-thin but not particularly scarred. Old things from childhood or an occasional odd job in town, but nothing significant. It's just the fresh cuts that came from this room. He kneels down at that table, hands clasping as though in a too-late prayer.

He hears Liam's words. Relaxing isn't really coming to him, but he tries. He tries to pull a memory, he was lucky in that he had so many strong memories, but all he can see is one face, one smile, one pair of trenzas spinning with twirling steps. I'm sorry, He thinks. I'm so sorry. He swallows hard and says, "I'm ready."