Coe gives up thrashing, gives up trying to live at all, only holding his breath now, isolated to his own, final thoughts. "So this is how I die. Liquified by some... freak of nature, probably some kind of abomination unto the Lord most likely." More tears pour out of his eyes and join the latex around as he realizes he'll never see his friends again, never fall in love, never even be able to inhale oxygen rich air or command the muscles in his hands and fingers to move. He looks at his disappearing arms and realizes how incredible such an act seems now, the ability to move, to think, to feel. And now he's lost it. He's lost everything. He's worthless. And thinking that, that he, Coe, an individual who had once played a part of in the play of existance, was worthless, that his whole life had simply been for him to die, without reason, he screamed out his last breath of air, screamed out of horror at his own fate, at defiance to the world that didn't need him, and out of pain from the loss of all he had once had and been. And then he was ready to drown.