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Mark couldn't really go that far. He felt tired and soon just from pacing fast he was panting. The red haired was annoyed with himself, annoyed with his situation. He was really dying, he thought and realized he was such an idiot for not noticing it earlier. He was throwing up his intestines and his hand just got cut off of his arm. Obviously he was dying, those were not signs of safely returning to the world.

Since he couldn't run away any longer he settled with hiding in his room. It was slightly untidy with clothes everywhere and a forgotten bowl of soup. He didn't care that much though, the first thought in his mind was to simply lay on the bed after all and block everyone out until he dropped dead.