"That BASTARD!"

You are so furious that it's hard to form words. "That... that... that monster!" you blurt out finally, stalking about the bare unfinished floor of the room as you try not to explode on the only other man nearby. "How dare he?! Living comfortably upstairs, while they don't even get two fucking beds between them?!"

Mr. Baxter looks on, shifting his weight uncomfortably, while you continue.

"This room isn't even fit for animals! Yet he sees fit to throw two clearly thinking, feeling individuals in here for... for how long?" You turn to the lawyer with a sigh. "How long were they **** to live here?"

His first reply is a shake of his head. "I cannot say for certain," the man replies sadly at last. "Mr. Rossum evidently prohibited them from discussing any of this with 'outsiders,' which I technically fall into, and they are still far too afraid of him to contradict his orders. Even after his ****."

You look about the room, gritting your teeth to stop the tears. That bastard is NOT going to make you fucking cry. Thankfully, Mr. Baxter intervenes - clearing his throat and pointing back to the lone door. "I'm afraid we still have two more rooms to see before we can conclude all of this. Take whatever time you need - just let me know, when you're ready, where you would like to go next."

You take several deep breaths, pushing the anger aside and replacing it with resolve. Harold is dead. If there is an afterlife past this existence, you hope he's suffering in a particularly miserable one - but he has no further hand in this world. You can change this. You can make it right.

Looking up, you nod towards the attorney. "Okay, I'm ready."