If it'll make Peter feel better, Carrie is willing to indulge him enough to try to find a way out of Hell to stitch up her wound. It's not going to happen; they're waiting for judgment. She knows this. If it'll give him something to do other than pushing against her sore back, though, she's willing to let him try.

"She's not here," she says a little more snappishly than she means to. She looks horrified almost instantly at her tone and Carrie ducks her head to hide behind her still-damp hair. "If we're not dead, why are we here?" she asks, in spite of herself. What could possibly be the reason they could be here if this isn't what she thinks it is? She honestly can't conceive of any other possible reason.

"I know you don't like it, Peter, but it is what it is. I died. I know I did and I know where I belong after everything. I can't speak for you," she says, her voice lowering until the last words she adds are a whisper again, "God knows where I belong."