The word falls hard against his ears, and the haze yields now to full terror.

Dying.

The panic doesn't do much to make the labor of breathing easier - it feels like there is a hand inside his ribcage, slowly squeezing tighter each time he exhales.

A frail whimper is all he can manage, a high, piteous cry as he responds with a terrified nod, reaching out to clutch white-knuckled at Herbert's hand. His eyes are wide and full of tears.

Please don't let me go.