[He looks back at the door, with its lock. He looks at their bindings, at the dust and the webs and the empty box.]

...Do they?

[ It doesn't look like they do.

He freezes when he spots that knife, afraid and uncertain. Did they...? No. No, they offered their eyes and-- well, that thought is even worse. He swallows hard and reaches down for it.]

If they love you, then they will not mind if you go. Not so much to stop you. Surely you'd like to see the world. Surely they'd want you to have what you want.

[ He goes to that first bit of binding, levelling the knife at it. ]

And if they do not, perhaps they don't yet know how to love.