Holden stepped in after Izzy, shutting the door firmly behind himself. He turned his back to her as he locked the doorknob, making no effort to disguise this action. The only way their meeting would be interrupted would be if a janitor came by to unlock the closet. Holden didn't move from in front of the door, making a possible escape for Izzy difficult, at least without having to go through him. Even so, he stayed at his spot by the door, which was some distance from Izzy, and did not advance toward her.

He began speaking before she had a chance to pipe up, "Curiosity is like a cockroach," he began, his tone as dry as ever. "You always find it in places that you don't want to." He looked at Izzy, practically glaring at her with his deep, dark eyes. "You asked Trevor Hansen about my past. Who next? Our homeroom teacher? The school nurse? Ms. Young?" He let out an exaggerated sigh, his gaze breaking from Izzy's, as though he was immensely disappointed. "I had been very careful, but despite all of my diligence we're in the situation we're in now. There's a parable I'm reminded of; an elderly priest that prayed to God for salvation over a hundred nights, and all of his work was undone on the last night with a single fart." Despite the ridiculousness of his comparison, there was no humor in his voice. "A good name is sooner lost than won, in other words."

Holden's gaze met Izzy's again. "In any case, I will confirm now to avoid needless questions. Don't speak, and listen closely. Your suspicions are correct, I possess no weight." He paused, and then said, "That's not entirely accurate, though. I am not completely without weight. According to my build and my height, I should weigh about one-hundred-fifty pounds. However, my actual mass is around five pounds. That's what the scale says, anyway. I don't feel it. Everything feels the same to me as though I was at my proper weight."

He paused again, seeming to collect his thoughts, though his gaze lingered on Izzy. "This happened to me in the summer between the eight grade and the ninth. Not a middle schooler, not a high schooler, sort of a time of limbo. On vacation in Japan, with my mother to meet her family. I met a crab, and it plucked my weight out by the roots. It's fine if you don't understand; I don't want you to stick your nose in any further. The only person that knows about this outside of my family is my doctor, and now [i]you[/i], Izzy Caldwell. What should I do to ensure you never speak of this? What would make you seal your lips for an eternity, that you would swear to God in heaven that you never utter my secret to another living soul?"

Holden pulled out a knife.

Not a switchblade, or some other sort of pocket knife, but a multitool, like a swiss army knife. A three-inch-blade connected to a futher-extendable assortment of metal tools. None the less, its presence made the tension in the room thick enough to drown in.

"I didn't start with this, because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not a violent person, but I [i]am[/i] a desperate person. All I want is your silence, and your apathy. Don't become concerned, don't try to help, don't be my friend... Honestly, I don't even want you to fucking talk to me again after this. Do all of that for me, and that pretty face of yours will go unmarred. Now, do we have an understanding?"