Again, he's silent, but again, it's because he's taking it in. He's absorbing that guilt, because that's the only thing he can feel right now. It drowns him, and the air to the room hasn't come back and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to breathe again.

He stands slowly, not to leave or escape, but to simply move, walking away from the table with his arms folded.

"I - started it. Doing it for her. To get her back. And then I got her back. They put my daughter, my ten year old child, in a fucking brothel. I didn't care what happened to any of them, except that they should all hurt."