He stood there, panting, head bowed and fist still firmly planted against the wall, for a while, letting the pain radiating from his hand wash over him and burn away the tight ball of emotion sunk into his chest. It was what he'd always wanted to do, punch a wall with all his might, and now that he'd finally done it, Kratos didn't know why he hadn't punched a wall earlier; the catharsis was remarkable.

Finally, he stepped away and exhaled, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes before he bent down to pick up the flashlight he'd dropped somewhere in his mad scramble to reach Lloyd: it was rolling limply at his feet.

"What did they do?" He managed to keep his voice at its usual even, calm, near-monotone, but could not completely block out the bitter bite that tinged the ends of his words.