I went to see you again today. You sat on a stool in the center of the cell, and when you finally looked at me, I saw the fear in your face. You looked like a small, helpless child, and I wanted to hold you in my arms and warm your fears away. You stood up. Walked to the bars. Touched my hand, interlocked our fingers.
"I don't want to die," you choked. I had nothing to say to that. I couldn't find the courage.