Every year has a start and an end. Every year there is a party to end the year and begin the next. People celebrate, drink, and eat. They spend time with family. Tradition, culture, and religion, no matter the day or time. The holidays always come in some form. Everyone celebrates, each and every person, all in their own special way.
Rattle
The chains were tight against the man’s body.
Bzzzzt
Static fills the room from an old TV bolted to the wall in the corner of the room. The dusty metal room lay cold and repressed. The chains rattling again give off a lingering echo. The man could not speak, his mouth gagged with a festive red ball. Murmurs, whine, they do rise from his throat but with no real volume. His eyes lack will, his voice lacks power. A dull dark scene to set the holiday mood. The man could see the flickering colorful lights come to life from the thin window above. Houses along a path, children cheering and playing too. This time of year always inspired many feelings of happiness and cheer.
Clink
Even a captor could be moved by the season. The man's shackles pop right off his hands and legs. Finally allowed to stand once again he slips off the table and falls to his face. What would one expect having not walked for months? The man cries and whimpers with tears he had thought dried. Still, hope thought shriveled was still in his eyes. Sitting himself up he rips the gag from his face. “Finally…” He says weakly with pain in his throat. “I can breath… just a moment.” The air on his tongue, the dried drool finally wiped from his chin. He had some glee, as simple as it may be. “Now what.” He states the words knowing none would answer.
Bang
As if to hear his woes a box falls from the ceiling smashing against the table at the center of the room. The man painstakingly stands up, his body struggling from lack of movement. He manages to stand but shakes the whole way. A few steps around the table and his breath already escapes him. “I, I spoke to soon…” Though feeling blue, the man had to keep moving. Grabbing the top of the box, he pulls open the lid. It seemed to be some sort of present. Inside the box is a card as well as some wrapped-up clothes. Carefully he takes the card and unfolds it. The words “Seasons Greetings~” is scribbled across the side. It felt like a joke considering where he was; and the state he was in. “Dear— oh right do you remember your name?” The man sighs closing the letter right away. Would it really matter if he did remember? Taking another breath he carefully opens the letter back up and keeps reading. “I know it’s almost been a full year now. Yet you’re not quite like the others. I’ve given you a little gift for your efforts. After all even a captive deserves some holiday cheer.” The man slowly closes his eyes. Captive was the correct word for him. His clothes currently were just cloth. His body however was kept clean. They made sure of that. However, he ate and drank little. He was boney, whatever muscle he had was a joke now. Having any water or food dangled in front of him would be far too tempting now. Though his name? When did he first lose his name? He kept some piece of himself in tact for all this time, but a name was not important enough? “I guess I can always name myself…” The man mutters the words carefully, takes another breath, and reads on. “The gift, of course, does not end there. I have a special offer for you. Play my little holiday games. And I’ll let you out. What do you have to lose at this point… fun for me, a chance for you. I can always have more playthings, but you can’t always have a chance like this. Wear the present I gave you, and the door will open. Figure out the rest yourself, if you want a chance to walk through the snow again~ Your Amazing Director Claire Reads~”
The director herself wrote the letter. Just knowing that sends a chill down the man’s spine. Out of all the people he had to deal with. The director was the worse. Every time she came to see him, it was always something new. Even with a small body the woman’s piercing eyes and strong legs did plenty for her. Why did she want to play this game with him? A way to dangle hope only to take it away right when he reaches an exit? “Well…” calmly the man turns around and takes the clothes from the box laying them out on the metal table he had been chained to for so long. “Makes sense…” The clothing laid out is as followed; red panties with green polka dots, a red sports bra, and a red dress with a fluffy white collar hem and sleeves. By all means, it was what the man would call some sort of slutty holiday outfit. Minus the footwear. “Did she do this to others… I kind of hope so. I don’t think I want to be her favorite.” The man tosses his cloth coverings aside and begins to get dressed. The sports bra slides over his chest and hook and loops in the back. He takes a few seconds to get it but manages. The panties are easy to pull on. Surprisingly comfortable considering how he had not even had underwear for some time now. The dress pulls over his scrawny bony body rather easily too. The fabric is soft, and warm as well. He felt silly fully dressed, but the door to his room does open. “Did she pick an outfit like this cause of my hair…?” Taking a careful step forward the man feels his hair brush against his back. It was shoulder blade length, a nice dark brown color. They made sure to condition and shampoo it for him. The man was not as foolish as Claire made him feel. It was clear to him Claire must have wanted him to look like some slutty woman. Though it seemed to be failing due to his bony body giving him no real figure. “Whatever… my body is weak enough… just trying to talk hurts. I can only try..” The man all be it slowly, walks through the door.
SLAM!
The door closes behind the man with a loud slam. Outstretched before him, is a long hallway. To his surprise, the hallway was like a prison ward or hospital. Doors line the sides, workers walk down the middle. “Are… they real?” The man could barely believe actual people would be in front of him. They walk past, but none acknowledge him. Part of him was afraid. If he touched one, would it break the illusion? That or the person could strike back at him. Thoughts scramble through the man’s mind. Knowing how the director played games, even if the people were real they could all just be actors. After all, Claire did write that he would have to figure things out.
“Hello.” The first person to speak to the man is a woman in a military uniform. At least that was the best the man could describe it. A black pencil skirt, black tights, black heels, a vested top with medals of honor even with a nice tie on. Though the colors of the uniform were black and white, no military colors he was aware of, not that his memory seemed to do him many favors. The woman stares at him sternly, her voice is gruff but not hostile. Her eyes shine a faint green. She keeps herself well, hair tied up in a high ponytail, hand neatly rested against her skirt. It was like she was waiting for orders or presenting herself at some formal event. Given the hospital-looking area, it made little sense to him. What to do now is the question. The man could question the woman back or simply wait. “Are you going to keep staring?” The woman speaks candidly but barely flinches while she does so. “The first game has started.” The woman does not move her head while speaking but her eyes keep locked on the man. “Mistress Reads has told me to tell you about this game so you have some sort of direction. At each game, I will be present as the judge. If you wish to move on you must show me you have what you need to move on. That’s as much of a hint as you’re getting.” The woman closes her eyes for a few moments and breathes out. “Mistress Reads however said if you cry and beg her name she will gladly provide you assistance with the game.”
The man rolls his eyes and steps away from the woman mumbling to himself to sort out his thoughts. “What now? What I need to move on... I guess I can only start checking these—” About to mention rooms the man notices only four. The door that had slammed behind him was no longer there. The hall itself seemed smaller as well, though he heard no noise for it to change so drastically. Even the people he had seen walking about were no longer present. Squeezing his eyes shut the man takes a deep breath and walks into the first door on the right. Inside the room is a table. A small white table with a small white chair with a flower on top. The table and chair looked like it was made for a doll, though the man saw no doll in the room. “Lovely…” The man lets an exasperated sigh leave his lips and he walks over to the table squatting down beside it. “I can’t exactly sit here, can I? The chairs about as big as my hand. The table is more of a stool if I had to sit anywhere…” Gently the man brushes his finger along the table top squinting at the surface. “I don’t see any writing…” Grabbing at the edges of the table he attempts to lift it but with no success. From what he could tell the table appeared to be bolted to the floor. “I hope it’s bolted down… I’d like to think my body hasn’t gotten that weak. What exactly did she expect me to do here?” Taking a small step back the man peers closer at the chair now. The flower on top of it appeared to be decoration, not a real flower yet the detail was striking. A white and black checkered flower with each induvial petal neatly in place. “How can someone make something that detailed… A machine had to have done it right?” Standing back up the man exits through the door and walks to the other door opposite him. “May as well check them one at a time right?” This room also holds a chair and table. The chair looks the same as the first room a checkered flower on top of it. Only both the chair and table are normal sized for an adult human, nothing doll house style about them. “Weird… why did she mirror the rooms. Ugh, I don’t even know what kind of place this hell hole is. Does she keep furniture locked up?”
The man was lost in wonder and riddled with questions. Two rooms had been opened but there was no clue what he is supposed to do. By the sounds of the guard watching him these little tests will grant him an item, something physical he could show. The best he could think of currently was taking the chair and table but they were both bolted to the ground. Stepping back into the hall the man was left to think, two doors remained unopened. Walking to the second door on the right the man swings it open and peers inside. The room looked about as large as the others so far, though the doors were close together. The man groans silently just trying to wrap his brain around it. The doors are about two feet apart from each other at best. The rooms are both boxed-shaped and should overlap with one another since the doors enter at the center point. Of course, more bewildering was the fact that this room also has the chair, and the table. Once again, the chair and table sit in the center of the room though these are human size like the ones in the first left door. Not wanting to linger the man quickly turns and rushes to the second door on the left swinging it open. This room also has the chair and table, but these are once again doll house size. Sighing the man steps back into the hall and leans against the wall squeezing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” The man grumbles with discontent, pondering on things was leading him nowhere. “Should I try sitting on one of the chairs? Standing on the table? Knowing Claire… would that lead to something better or worse?”
Breath in, breath out.
The man could not panic at simply sitting in a chair. Walking into the first room on the left he stares at the lone chair with the flower on top. Most would not feel anxiety from a thought like sitting down. The man however could feel the pain in his back, the tightening of muscles in his arms. He could not remember his name, but he could remember the times he spent with Claire. Would this game with her be as simple as throwing away his pride? “She already made me wear this crap… am, am I really afraid to try and figure things out?” Squeezing his eyes shut the man takes a step forward. Something about his body felt heavy, but still, he pushes on. One step, and then the next, suddenly the table was in front of him, the chair to his right side. “I just need to sit down…” The man’s body shivers and he slowly lowers himself down sitting on the chair. Since his clothing currently was just some swanky holiday dress the chair felt cold against his thighs. Despite how it was painted to look like some kind of white wood the man could tell it was a type of metal. Or maybe it was wood reinforced with metal? “Well…” The man sighs and shakes his head, such random thoughts mattered not to the test. “Whatever the chair is, it’s not digging into my skin… it just feels like some fancy metal chair. Now what?” Leaning back in the chair the man’s ears perk up.
Click
It was a subtle sound but leaning forward he hears it again. Click. He could barely believe it himself, did the chair actually matter to the game? “Okay… well… let's try it.” Clearing his throat the man sits up straight and scoots himself back in the chair hearing the Click once more. Nothing else was happening though. Looking over his shoulder the door to the room was still open, nothing seemed to change. “If the chair did something… maybe?” Hesitantly the man touches the table resting first his right hand down and then his left. Click. The sound happened again. Were the items pressurized in some way, or was Claire watching him and making the sound when he did something she liked? “Only so much of this I can think on… what do I do now?”
DING
As if in answer the ceiling above the table pops open a bell pleasantly chiming at the same time. The opening is square and a circular plate is lowered down. The man could tell it was a serving dish. The silver lid keeps the heat in, the silver plate under it is just for show. Usually when the lid is lifted a normal plate will be atop the silver one with food at the ready. Sometimes establishments even include utensils on the platter.
Twist, click, pop
The chain connected to the top of the lid twists, the platter clicks, and the lid is lifted off. The chain and lid go back to the ceiling and the square hole closes. The situation was unbelievable enough to the man but now in front of him sits a white plate. On the white plate is a steaming piece of meat. The man’s mouth starts to water as soon as the smell hits his nose. At the sides of the plate a fork and knife rest, both connected to the silver platter with chains. “It’s steak… right?” The man could not think about why the utensils were chained down, his mind filled only with the hunk of meat in front of him. “Claire always gave me those nutrient pills… Ha-ha-haha-ah. If she wanted to torture me this way… I’m surprised she didn’t do it sooner.” The man reaches forward and tries to lift the silver platter to bring it closer. “Huh?” His fingers dig at the side of the platter but it does not move an inch. However, lifting the white plate is possible. “Ah… whatever… I just. Do I even care if it’s drugged; if it, if it smells that good?” The man moves the plate nice and close and with it, he drags the chained utensils closer as well. Without another thought, he stabs a fork into the steak seeing some blood leaking from it. The steak seems to be seasoned with some onion flakes, some salt, and maybe garlic too he was not exactly a foodie. Taking the knife he cuts a thin strip from the steak and stares at the perfect medium rare. It was most likely grilled from the markings he could see on top of it. Seared to keep in flavor but not burnt at all. Licking at his lips the man felt any resistance he has leave his body. Pressing the fork into the cut piece he raises it to his mouth and takes the bite. His teeth dig into the meat and shred it apart. Juicy, and tender, it tasted unrealistic, the man could feel tears brush his cheeks. “S-so… good.” He wanted to savor the taste, but somehow the stake is consumed in what felt like seconds. The man had no watch so he could not say for sure. “Hah… I ate it all.” It felt filling, the taste is still lingering in his mouth. At the same time, it felt a tad too filling in some ways. He was full but his stomach ached a bit. He had not been having real food, so part of him wonder why he did not throw up right away. “A stomach ache is nothing as long as it stays down… Hah… if I die cause of this, at least it tasted good.”
Leaning back in the chair, the man now had time to collect his thoughts and digest the food. “Why are the utensils chained… was she afraid I’d get a weapon? The platter’s magnetized or something. I can’t move it even if I wanted to… but I can move the plate.” A slow breath breathes out from the man's mouth and he gingerly lifts the white plate still ripe with leftover juice from the steak. Looking over his shoulder to the hallway the man turns back to the plate and begins to lick it clean. He felt no shame, the meat was too good. “Ah… it wouldn’t be this simple, right?” Squeezing at the now sparkling licked clean plate the man stands up from the chair and walks out the door. The woman from before was standing at the end of the hall closest to the second right and left doors. “Did she know I did something…?” Walking up to the woman the man flips the white plate in his hands and shows it to the woman.
The woman’s green eyes examine the plate closely. They flick for a moment over the man but she then gestures her hand to her side and the end of the hall opens, a staircase going up now before the man. “You’ve done well.” The woman keeps her sentence short and keeps her hand gesturing to the stairs. “You may proceed onward. Till next we meet.” With those words said she says nothing else. She does not look toward the man or acknowledge him further, she simply stares down the hall like she was not even aware of her surroundings. The man not wishing to linger walks past and begins to walk up the stairs.
CLANG
The wall that had opened shuts and the man is left in darkness. Pressing his palm to the wall he carefully walks the stairs bare feet quietly tapping against the cold metal. He was unsure of how long he walked or how many stairs he walked. He lost count after five hundred steps. Was it some sort of an illusion? Or were the stairs like an escalator? “Hah… is this the next game? I thought it would take me to the next one, not be the next one…” The man presses his back against the metal wall and slowly slides down. His butt hits the stair and he sighs. What were his options now? Would he hear some sort of clicking if he was doing things correctly? “She has me dressed up…” Closing his eyes the man speaks to himself trying to sort things out. “Dress up… and then eat steak… Is she trying to make this game be…” His body shivers and he lets a groan pass his lips. “Is this supposed to be her way of taking me on a date or something? I’m I suppose to be thankful?” It was just a theory, the man had no way to prove anything. “Well for now, what’s different about this place… It’s pitch black. I can’t see my hand just feel, hear and smell. The stairs feel like stairs.” Slowly the man drags his fingers along the staircase. It had some grooves in it to keep traction. “I guess I can try anything…” The man presses his knees to the ground and leans forward his palms now on the ground too. Carefully he reaches up and places a palm on the stair, then he lifts his knee. Walking up the stairs on all fours seemed silly, but it gave him a better feel for each step. “It’s about five feet wide to each wall or something… The walls both seem to have nothing special, so are the stairs what’s special?”
CLANG
Suddenly the man is momentarily blinded by light. Squeezing his eyes shut he tries his best to shake the daze. “D-damn it…” Slowly he begins to lift his eyes open adjusting to the new light. “Ah… did… did a path open?” Wincing a little the man gingerly lifts his head looking at the new doorway in front of him. The woman with green eyes stares down at him with a smirk parting her lips. “Huh…?” It took the man a moment to consider his situation, looking down at himself, his knees still press the stairs and so do his palms. Given his outfit, it looked like he was doing something rather depraved. His cheeks begin to darken red but he stands himself up and walks past the green-eyed woman. “Th-there! I’m I done with that one?!”
The woman looks down the stairs and then reaches her hand behind her skirt. “Hm.” She hums softly with her eyes closed. Bringing her hand back forward a pocket watch now rests in her palm. From what the man could tell the skirt she was wearing had no pockets. “Enough time passed. So yes.” The woman’s eyes only briefly glance at the watch, and then she puts both hands behind her back seemingly to put the watch away. “Move along now, this is the last one.”
The woman was not exactly what the man would call inviting so he cared not to try and question her. It was odd though; she had said enough time passed. He knew he heard that part correctly. Was what he was playing even really a game? All he had done was get dressed, eat, and walk up some stairs. “I don’t get it…” The man turns away from the woman and looks down the new hall. This one has tile floors cool to the touch. The walls however have more color and design compared to what he had seen before. Wooden trim at the middle of the walls, black and white checkered pattern under, with a solid black on top. The colors felt oppressive just being black and white, but the hint of brown wood made it also feel calmer than the uniform colors below. “Weird…” As he begins to walk the man notices several doors along the walls, these spaced out more evenly than the first game room. However, trying to open each door did nothing, all were locked. Each door however has names on them, common names, or strange ones making it seem like an office building. “I can’t see in the rooms… but it does feel more like an office than… hah well than wherever I actually am.” Walking, and walking the hall seemed just as endless as the stairs, however, the names on the doors kept changing none of them repeated. “How long is this hallway…? I can’t even see that woman or the staircase anymore… The names haven’t been repeated either. What the heck is Claire thinking… none of this has felt like a game. It feels more like she’s just leading me in a direction.” Walking, and walking, the names kept varying nothing appeared to repeat. The man even tried to focus on certain doors to try and see if the hall was rounded but everything seemed straight. After another one hundred doors had been passed, the man finally sees the end of the hall. His pace begins to quicken, but suddenly he stops. “Why aren’t I tired…?” The question makes his stomach sink. From climbing stairs, from walking such a long hall. He should have been tired already. He was pushing through exhaustion earlier to just keep standing with his boney body. “I hadn’t thought about it since I ate…” The man looks at his arms and then lifts the dress to look at his stomach. He would not say he got fat, but he did not see his bones either. Brushing his fingers along his skin, it felt smooth, hairless, but a bit soft too. A bit of a bounce even as he taps his fingers against it. It felt like healthy skin instead of bone and decaying muscle from lack of use and nourishment. “This doesn’t make sense… no nothing here has made sense. Just eating that stake… made my body this healthy? Hah no…” The man begins to run his fingers along himself examining more. From feet to head he touches and looks the best he can. A curve at his hips, and a fuller butt, and his shoulders were not broad. “It’s like my body became more feminine, but also healthier…” Biting at his lip the man lets out another quiet sigh and begins to keep walking.
Did it really matter, if he was a man or a woman? The man thought that first. Without his name, without more memories. He just seemed to have general knowledge about things. He didn’t know why but he knew them. Like how he knew what the severing platter was. None of that mattered. He just wanted to get out. To be under the sky without anything barring him. If Claire thought it funny to change his body, he simply would not care. He keeps walking and walking getting closer to the end of the hall. “Time passed… probably for whatever the steak had in it to work. I didn’t even notice anything cause the stairs were so dark...” None of that matters now, even as he said the words he could only scoff at them. Finally, he reaches the end of the hall. Claire is written on the door nameplate. The other doors had full names, but this only said, Claire. “Alright…” Swallowing back spit the man grabs the doorknob and twists it.
CLICK
It was not locked, he pushes on It, and it opens. The room looks like a normal office. Art pieces on the wall as well as hung up degrees and awards. A wooden desk, a computer, and monitor, and a few comfortable-looking cushioned chairs with sled bases. The room even has carpet a dark red color. The walls look a mix of maroon and brown. A woman sits at the desk, a pair of black thick-rimmed square glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She does not look toward the man as the door opens, nor does she as it closes. The man shivers again turning to the door. The green-eyed woman stands in front of it and simply nods at him. He could not go back the way he came. The woman at the desk, part of him did not want to believe it outright. It seemed to be Claire. She looked different compared to how he usually saw her. The woman brushes some of her blue strands of hair behind her ear and she slowly sits back in her black chair. “Another day.” The words are uttered from her lips softly but the man cannot help but flinch hearing her voice. The icy tone, yet soothing pitch. A voice that felt like it could make anyone their friend but also control everything around her. “I see you’ve made it.” Claire takes her glasses off resting them on her desk. Her yellow eyes were finally in full view. They look the man up and down, while her pale pink lips tenderly curve into a smile. “Please.” She stands up and the man's body felt frozen in place. They were the same height, or was he now shorter? That made no sense, Claire had always been small, probably around five feet and three inches at most. Even in the elevated shoes, she wore she would still only reach the man’s chest. “Sit down.” The man did not want to, but his body moves on its own. He sits down in the seat, and his eyes shift down as well like a scolded child that got sent to the principal’s office. She was already looking down on him before, now she was in every sense of the word. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it this far.” Claire steps around her desk and walks over to the man’s side, her fingers gingerly dragging along the arm of the chair. “Anna, you may leave.” The green-eyed woman bows at Claire and opens the door. It shuts in just a moment and then the room is silent beyond the faint hum of Claire’s computer fans. She did this a lot to him, the man thought. Not speaking, just being close to him. Forced to listen to all the sounds around him. Though right now he could speak, nothing was blocking his mouth like usual. But for some reason, his throat felt dry, no words would come out. “So.” Claire lowers herself right next to the man so her lips brush ever so slightly against his ear. “Did you enjoy the steak~?”
The man could hear his heartbeat in his head. The words were simple, all Claire did was ask a question. The man however could not answer. Carefully Claire smirks and walks back to her chair. Sitting down in it she crosses one leg over the other. Her outfit currently was much like the woman she called Anna. Though instead of a military-like vest, she wears a simple white button blouse, the black pencil skirt was very much the same. It is nothing like the man is used to, she appears more like some sort of office worker. “I-I…” The man’s throat felt like it was constricting, like if he spoke he would die on the spot. Claire however did not change her demeanor. She keeps a smile on her lips and even places her elbows against her desk to rest her chin in her hands as if to say she was willing to wait. It seemed that Claire had no intention of speaking further if he did not first. Trying his best to gather some spit the man awkwardly twists in the chair. For as comfortable as it felt his body felt too stiff. Why was Claire not chaining him up? Why was she meeting him for this game of hers? Could she not have just let him out instead of making him sit in her office? “It… it. Ah…” Stuttering, mumbling, sweaty palms, the man was a mess and still had not even said more than one word. Something, he had to say something did he not? Mustering what strength he could, he would at least answer one question. “I-it was very g-good!”
Claire’s eyebrows raise a little, she seemed to not expect the man's raised voice. But her smile does not fade from her lips. Leaning back in her chair she removes her elbows from the table and rests her hands on her lap. “Very good then. You’ve passed everything.” The man flinches in his seat, this is it right? The moment where the villain says the words, but. “Exit the door, open the one to the left. Walk the stairs. Open the next door. You’ll be outside. When the door closes. You won’t find this place again.” She says the words matter-of-factly, all still with a smile on her face. “You didn’t need to come in here actually. You could have simply opened that door once you made it this far.” The man’s mind, could not help but race, what did that mean? He had no desire to see Claire, but at the same time, he indeed stopped trying to open the other doors. “You really are…” The man could feel his throat dry once more, something about the look in Claire’s eyes made him want to sink into the seat. Even though she was smiling, it was like her eyes were holding him right next to her lips. “My favorite…” A soft sigh lingers off Claire’s lips, and she turns in her chair to face the wall waving a hand back at the man.
What did it mean, to leave? Without Claire looking at him, he stands up from the chair with ease yet his heart still races. His legs feel weak but he manages to grab the door and exit. It did not matter, just like the thoughts before, just get out. He grabs the door to his left and opens it. There was a name on the door, but opening it did lead to a staircase. He walks through, and the door shuts behind him. “Finally…” The man sighs with relief, with two doors separating him he felt some ease around his heart. Weakly he begins to walk up the stairs. These had a railing and flights to them twisting upward. “The further I get… the better I feel. I can… I can finally leave. Right? No… no, even if it leads to my death… as long, as long as I don’t have to be here anymore.” With each step, the man feels his strength return. A slow pace becomes a jog and more flights are passed. The racing in his heart now was not fear. The hope he still had deep down was rising. Could he call it hope if he did not even mind his own death? He wasn’t sure. Finally, the door at the top of the stairs greets him.
BANG
The man barges right through the door feeling his bare feet press into the snow. He could see his breath and feel his body begin to shiver from the cold chill around him. “Hah-hah-hah…” The man pants slowly and peers up at the dull grey sky. Snowflakes linger down around him brushing against his skin. Turning his head back to the door, he sees nothing. Trees are around him, and a few shining colorful lights hang on houses in the distance. He was not far from the road. “Is it real…?” He walks through the snow with no concern for his current clothes and lack of them. His skin reddens from the cold but it was better than that place. “Real road?” Feet pressing against cold pavement he looks up and down the road, a car passes him, and then a few others begin to slow. The people in the car point, talk, hold odd rectangles, and press buttons. “Am I really out?” The man’s body wobbles and his knees hit the pavement. Looking down at himself he can see the blood trickle out slowly changing the lingering snow on the road to dull red. “icy… cold, even nice lights. Heh… I feel so tired now. I ran up the stairs too quick, didn’t I?” The man wobbles more and falls back, he could feel his head now resting against the curb. Instead of hard, it was soft, the snow makes it like a comfortable pillow. Doors began to click open, cars started dinging, and shoes hit the pavement. Were people coming out on his account? It was no trouble. “Hah, I’m just tired is all… that cell was this cold. And I have clothes this time too… what’s the big deal. Ah, I guess. I guess I look too tired to them. Is it cause I look smaller? Maybe I should sleep.” The man’s eyes flick between the branches of the trees around him. They were covered in snow, it complimented the scenery well. Part of him felt like snow could be cold and oppressive. He felt that when he saw it from that small window. But looking at it fall gently against the trees, watching it come down from grey clouds. It was somehow calming. People were shouting, the man could even feel the touch of another person’s skin. The words sounded muffled. He really was tired, a woman’s voice, a man's, maybe even a child's too? He really was tired, it was hard to make out, but he could still see the snow. Yet for some reason, his mind lingered on something else. “What was the name on that door again…?” The name that let him get here, the name that opened the path to the stairs. He had not looked at it long enough. Was it his name? It felt foggy, it started with the C. “What was it…”
Siren’s sound, people keep chatting, he could hear them getting closer. Someone was touching him, but he could probably not hear unless they were right next to his ear. He wanted to tell them that. But it was hard to do more than a mumble. Maybe one of them would have an idea. He was pretty tired though. “I’ll just… rest for now I guess.”
A hand softly squeezes at his own, and the voices begin to quiet down. He was going to sleep, but he could feel a warm breath against his ear. That person seemed to get it. They speak tenderly, and warmly.
“Don’t worry, you’re my favorite.”
And the man finally falls asleep.