He wrenches his arms away. One fist closes on his throat as he bends, the other is fuelled by months of living in his own sick mind; it crashes into the man's jaw, and he does not care that he cannot catch a breath. His chest is tight, he is gasping; he cannot think, and he just wants to be free.

'I will never.'

He follows him down to the ground, a knee digging into his chest.

'I will never.'

He is hitting him, and hitting him, and there is pain but that is well. He wanted pain. He asked for pain, and he brought it on himself, and he will not turn from it now.