[Kratos looks at her wordlessly, and he doesn't have an answer. She's right; there is another way. But it's so twisted in what he's done, who he is, what he is -- what he wishes he were -- that he can't find the words.

[Worse, he wants to tell her. He doesn't know how to start. It's been a long time since he's been open with anyone, and that person had died shortly after.]

I don't know how.

[He doesn't like the feeling of being helpless, but it's so very rarely that this feeling is caused by something within him, instead of something he's done or witnessed.]