It was difficult getting to people to understand that actually you wanted to be in the cage. That the cage was the safest place at the moment.

The rest of the world had gone mad - or at least, it seemed that way. Maybe the world had always been like this, maybe there had always been something in a stranger's eye, maybe there was always something in the rain that made it taste funny.

Maybe the drugs were wearing off, maybe he was finally waking up to the reality. Or the drugs were taking effect, maybe he was devolving (he'd considered the possibility that he was losing his mind, almost hoped that was what was happening, it would be much simpler if he were just insane)

Regardless, behind the bars felt safest. Keeping him safe within, keeping the world safe without. Hiding, if that's how they want to think of it, but hiding kept quite a few people alive.

Not that he's entirely certain being alive is a paticularly good idea at the moment, but it could be worse. It could be much, much worse.

And he knows what he'll have to do if he needs to. The walls are reassuringly solid, the bars are sturdy. He can do himself the damage he needs, if the situation should call for it. He isn't sure that it will.

But then a stranger smiles, and those teeth shine a little too brightly, a little too pointed, the smile is too wide.

(and the strangest part is that he is most unnerved that they bothered to smile at all)


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bespectakate (joined over 13 years ago)
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Ladygirl of a British persuasion; sometimes I actually write stories that aren't depressing (but not very often)

I write for the, which is a webcomic about superheroes. Interesting ones. Cute ones, too. Which is nice. (It's cheerier than most things I write. That's where the happy goes, guys.)

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