"I think it might help," she says, giving him a small, tight smile. "Even if it only helps by letting you put things in order enough that this fucking place can't drag them up as a nasty surprise."

Finally, they've reached the doors, and she pushes through into the watery light outside, head tilting back as she draws in a breath of air not scented with poison and rot for what feels like the first time in hours, days.