Zack drags himself across the concrete floor, leaving a trail of blood wherever he goes. He doesn't stop, even though he knows there's no way to escape at this point.

He reaches a wall with no way out, with the little strength he has. Leaning against the wall, sitting on that cold, dirty floor. Looking ahead.

— You're ill... Go to hell!

Zack says firmly, with anger and disgust. He wipes the blood from his own mouth, staring blankly at his approaching aggressor. Looking him in the eyes.