Cautiously, he takes the girl's hand. His hands are icy cold, though that can be explained away by the thin hospital gown he wears on a February night. Less explainable is the blood smeared across his face and down his front. It's a lot of blood, and none of it is his.

"I d-d-don't know," he stammers, on the verge of tears once more. "I don't remember."