He cocks his head, looking at her with something that might be construed as remorse if he weren't already completely empty.
"You think I want to?" He doesn't. He wishes to god he doesn't have to. He spent hours, days, nights holed up in his room back home, nails digging into his scalp as he fought away the revelation that he didn't want to admit to himself.
That he would have to kill them. All of them. And then himself.
"I don't want to die, Max." His balance is still off from that kick she dealt him, but he tightens his jaw and keeps advancing. "I don't want you to die."
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"You think I want to?" He doesn't. He wishes to god he doesn't have to. He spent hours, days, nights holed up in his room back home, nails digging into his scalp as he fought away the revelation that he didn't want to admit to himself.
That he would have to kill them. All of them. And then himself.
"I don't want to die, Max." His balance is still off from that kick she dealt him, but he tightens his jaw and keeps advancing. "I don't want you to die."
His eyes lose their focus for a moment.
"But I'm not afraid."