The ringing in my ears, the lump in his throat. It was the first time he'd ever been so scared. The only thing that brought him back to his senses was their hand. He squeezed their hand. The corridor turned red, like the stains on his shirt. Red stains on his face. But they don't care. And Mark doesn't care about the rest. He probably did a bad thing, though who can say where that line is now. They run hand in hand, like newlyweds fleeing a failed wedding. Something warms his heart, he can almost touch the feeling. The corridor is white again, but it doesn't think to stop, drawing them further away. Away from everyone, towards the unknown. Mark chuckles to himself at how childish that sounds.