“What I have?” His expression breaks. What he has is - it’s nothing! He saw the memories this world sought to recreate, and what were they? His all-too-brief life, his suffering, his premature death, and then the fantastical delusions of his batshit mother!

What does he have?

“You have no idea,” growls Gabe, “what it is I have.”

And whether or not he should be fucking grateful for it.