"Ruka, Ruka!" He repeats her name, growing more frantic at her lack of response. He doesn't want her to have to bear this. She shouldn't feel this. A flash of anger directed at her for inflicting it on herself flares up among the emotions still travelling from the collar to Ruka to Karkat. "Ruka. Ruka. Ruka, come on, Ruka, you insufferable moron, let it go."

He's denied the gold on the horizon she experiences: the impending dawn is hidden from him, as he continues to work at pulling her fingers away from the collar, one by one. It's difficult, what with the way his own hands shake, and he thinks he might be hurting her, but bruised and sore fingers are better than allowing her to continue to absorb his past.