[ Right. Anyone would be curious. Dokja stays quiet for a moment before he slides down from where he's leaned against the wall, opting to sprawl out on his bed instead and pointedly fix his gaze on the ceiling above. This isn't a story he wants to tell, but the weariness chips away at him. It's left him with barely a soul, the remnants something fragile and precarious, and so with a small push, there's a give. ]

... I ended the world, [ he confesses softly, grief raw in his voice. ] All the lives destroyed because of me I carry here [ he touches the side of his head ] and here [ then his heart ] forever.

[ It makes sense, doesn't it? Why Dokja hates himself so much. He'd been the sole reason for the destruction of his world and the worlds that had come before and after. Almost two thousand worlds and almost two thousand worlds worth of lives. But most importantly, the people that he loved more than anything else had suffered because of him... And for what? Why? He still doesn't understand. ]

You can see now why I fought so hard against the Kenoma's influence.

[ He turns his head so that he's facing Eustace, and the unbearable weight of the guilt crushing him from the inside out is reflected clearly in his dark eyes. ]

I can't hurt people like that again.