A heavy hand carries her limp body into the dark room. He places her gently on the ground and strokes her head slowly; he watches her eyes blink open and look at his. She tries to sit up, but he stops her.
“You must not intervene,” he states, plainly and emotionless. He stands and takes the key to the door behind them; he turns it slowly, the door locking with a click. He removes the key from the lock, holding it up, admiring it as if for the last time. His heavy hand closes around the key, as the girl watches he walks over to the second door. He produces the second key and opens the door, before looking back at the girl.
“That door is closed now, but the memories must live,” he says. He raises his heavy hand and throws the first key through the second door. The girl stares at the hand for a second; unable to take in what has just happened. She stands, filled with both immense relief and fear. Her mouth opens, but only a whisper escapes.
He turns to her, expecting a different emotion to reveal itself, but gratitude remains on her face. Suddenly out of control, he strides to her and his heavy hand holds her wrist tight.
“You have nothing to thank me for; the worst is yet to come,” he says without looking away from her smiling lips. His cold eyes examine her face again, before he turns away.
The heavy hand gestures to the second door.
“Once more,” he says with certainty.
She steps through.
He waits for a moment, looking back at the first door, with longing in his eyes.
The heavy hand closes the door behind him.