…Yeah. [They get it in one, and Rip's eyes once more fall on the closed door he's stationed himself as guardian of. He doesn't know how many days it will take; truthfully, he's not so certain of how many days it's already been. But nothing has changed about what happens in that room-turned-war zone. Not who lives, nor who dies.]

My son was murdered. He was eight. [Left dead alongside his mother, after being forced to watch her die because Jonas' corpse had fallen on top of Miranda's.] I'm far from a good person, but—I was hopeful that another child wouldn't die when I could stop it.