"I'm not the one doing the lying," he snarls at it. "Just because I gave up then because there was no point doesn't mean I promised I'd give up forever."

He tries to roll over and toss it off him, indifferent to the dozens of glass splinters embedded in his back, or the still oozing wounds at his wrists and ankles. "And leave me the fuck alone!" he barks, turning to the little ferret. He doesn't want anything to feel good or gentle. He doesn't want anything of this place other than to not be here, by any means necessary.