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0 ɹǝʇdɐɥƆ

I awoke to my own shackles... Why...Every time I ask why..?I'm in pain... My ribs burn as I see my breath in the cold stale morning..or was it night..? I had no idea what was going on for the moment. I was naturally like this..Wake up to nothing, and wonder....But it hit me....I was stuck...I had been shackled to the wall, I had been hurt...My bum gently on the icy dirt ground..I try moving the slightest bit, but I couldn't really feel the metal digging into my skin..How old was I again? I had lost count....

I was still a child though.I was too young.. I look around. I was in a dark corner, and there were bars that kept me in.. I had enough room to get up and walk around, but, not enough to run or bound about. I look down at my attire. I had only a giant Man's grey shirt that barely skimmed my knees. I try to scrunch up, but the shackles on my ankles pinched at me with every moment. I wince, my teeth gritten with pain. I learned to stop crying when I was five... My eyes start to adjust to my dimly litten cell. I stop looking and I shut my eyes. 

I listen closely. My ears twitch, hearing the soft groans of many others like me..except, i was the only child.I had noticed this because every time I am out of my cell to get cleaned, i walk past the other cells, and see the bloody, dirty, beaten faces... They had fear in there eyes, well, the many who were lucky to have eyes. I started to remember slowly why I was here.. Well,im not entirely sure..Everyone here looked like a criminal..I never did anything wrong...at least im not sure...I just want to be warm right now....I don't even want to shower...I want warmth.. I want to feel warm..I want a hug....

I notice slowly, while I'm listening, my ears flatten, hearing the familiar footsteps of leather boots, size 8 in men, with spiked toes and spiked heels come towards my hall. My nostrils flare, with the scent of pungent dead souls and lust. I had adapted to where I was raised. I was trained to hear the heartbeat of a butterfly..I knew who was coming.....It was my caretaker....and the manager of the environment I call home..: The Mirror Prism.

 I hear him edge closer, whistling his tune of Ring around the Rosie.. that song was my fear. I heard metallic objects clank together..what was that? Prisoner chains? My shackles clanking because of my shaking? Or the keys to open my cell..? Of course as soon as I open my eyes, I see my cell open slowly. The loud creak was unbearable to the ears, and the rusty screech made me shiver. I started shaking..trembling... I notice the boots come forward. I look upward and see My caretaker.. Master Pitch. Pitch was a creepy, black sly fox with one red eye and the other white.He had a smile to darken anyone's dreams. He stopped directly in front of me. I held my tongue in his presence. His shoes..were so big and scary...He could easily crush me to death.... His voice was soft and low.

"Good evening, Prisoner number 1,983.." 

Was that my name? It is my name now....

I am Prisoner  number 1,983.... Oh well, at least its better than getting and ACTUAL name..I've never been outside before, but I hear its dangerous and scary..I hear this from prisoners who talk..I'm usually the silent child. I was afraid...I still am..Pitch is my abuser, my beater, I am the paint brush and he is Bob Ross.

Except...Happy Accident? 

No..I'm a mistake...