Chapter Text
You rushed over, having finally pushed past the box, having finally made your way back to the guitar. Susie and Noelle still talked in the background, Kris had turned their attention to face them, between the stupid robots, between them, maybe you'd finally have enough time to-
An impact of wood cracked against your form, sending you careening down to the floor, taking the guitar with you.
...You were fragile as a soul. You were exposed as a soul. Maybe Kris knew this,maybe not, but it certainly didn't change the fact that it still hurt. It didn't change the fact that you felt each impact, blow after blow after blow.
You didn't know why you were here. Your memory from before was spotty at best.
Something about a pitch black void, a man who shouted into the back of your skull, a stark grey body being formed from nothing, like strings weaving together cloth.
A second voice. One that overtook the other entirely. One that told you nothing you did mattered. When you tried to open your eyes again, you were met with darkness.
The first thing you remembered was panicking, screaming into darkness, feeling as if something had ensnared around you, encased you in a cage that pulsed and moved on its own-
The second thing you remembered was blinking and seeing light. You still had eyes. They just weren't your own.
Another impact of the stick. Another searing flash of pain.
You can imagine why Kris was mad you. At least, at first. Were the roles reversed, you'd expect nothing different.
You'd tried to be kind. To work with the slim context clues you had, to take any efforts to communicate, to at least have them eat and drink, to take care of themselves.
You' swore that the body worked against you in every opprotunity it could. Your fingers clenched against the handles of the fridge, your hand snapped or bent any writing tool beyond recognition, your head turned away whenever you tried to use the laptop in the room.
...What you couldn't understand was why with everything you'd tried, Kris despised you. Hateful eyes in the passing glances of mirrors, deadened limp hands whenever you tried to allow them to partake in their hobbies-
...The Birdcage.
Another rabid swing. Another flash of pain. You heard something- Heard yourself crack. You would scream, but you had no mouth with which to do so.
You went limp, the pain overwhelming, stars in your eyes as the world went fuzzy. You're vaguely aware of the sound of voices, of the closet door's opening and closing, of another door swinging open in the distance.
A hand wraps around you. Squeezes you tight enough for a crack in your form to continue to spread.
...All you'd wanted to do, all you'd tried to do was help. Kris had friends, Kris was safe, You'd even turned a blind eye when they'd thrown that bottle at you.
You could forgive a lot of things. The lack of communication, the misunderstanding, the frustration and the anger-
But you couldn't forgive this.
You squirm in rebellion as you feel Kris's weight shift around you. Finally able to see past buzz, you see their phone in their other hand, quickly swiping through a contact list. You didn't know who they were calling. You didn't care. If Kris wanted you gone so bad, then fine.
You squirm further, closer in the grip, as if shifting your weight closer to see the name of the contact on their phone. They hold you away, outside the closet door, to keep your prying eyes farther away.
...Exactly what you wanted.
You will the light of your soul to shine, as bright and as hot as it could. A gasp of pain as the hand quickly drops you. Your light fades, you dart away.
If Kris really hated you so much, then fine. FINE. They could have their life, have their friends, be as perfectly rid of you as they wanted! You were done being thrown around, done being used and thrown into a cage, done being hurt.
You plummet to the ground as you see something speed towards you from your peripheral, you watch as their phone impacts the ground beside you. Whichever name they had taken the time to call had been put on hold.
You fly back up, watching from the other side of the room as they stare you down, picking the hockey pick back up from the ground.
They looked desperate, from the slim flash of their eyes you saw beneath their hair. Angry, as their hand closed around it and they lined up another shot.
You dodged to the side and the puck clattered uselessly against the wall. Without the element of surprise, without the closed confines of the closet, they had no chance of hitting you. You'd had more than enough time to practice.
There was fear in their eyes, as they darted back into the closed to retrieve the hockey stick.
...What right did they have to be afraid?
You simply float out of their range as they charge you down with the stick, watching as they uselessly swat at the air.
Once, twice, thrice- Now!
You darted past another swing, rushing back out into the house at large, back up the second flight of stairs towards what you could only assume was Noelle's parent's room. You'd seen a vent that lead to the outside from there within the maze, if you could just reach that, if you could just reach the grate-
"S-Susie?" You heard a voice call out from the house below. "It's...not out here! Are you sure you saw it in the kitchen?"
...You hesitated. Noelle.
The only one who had shown you any semblance of kindness.
How Susie had reacted was exactly in character, you wouldn't have expected anything else, but you knew full and well she was prepared to smash you into pieces with that candy cane. Yes, you were just a mouse in that sense, but...Susie hadn't been the one that caged you instead. Taken you back upstairs and thought best on how to release or...keep you. Noelle-
Noelle hadn't thrown the same stupid hockey puck at the back of your head in your split second of hesitation. Hadn't overwhelmed you with pain as you fell back down to the stairs, tumbling into awaiting hands.
...Noelle hadn't fumbled at the last second, leaving you to roll farther down past her into the living room below, coming to a stop next to the same paper angel.
You saw the two of them returning through the open doorway of the kitchen. You saw Kris staring down at you from the staircase. You made a split second decision, covering yourself once more with the paper angel.
The clammoring of feet, idle conversation growing louder, hands wrapping around your paper prison-
"Oh! You, uh...Did you get it, Kris?"
...The hands hesitate. Two more sets of feet come to rest nearby.
"I'm so sorry about this! Me and Susie just found something in the basement, and when we went down there was this mouse trapped under the paper angel here, and-"
"Dude, I didn't even see it! Noelle didn't either!" Susie says beside you. "But uh...what do we...do with it?"
...Your prison moved. Hands crumped in towards you.
"Oh, uh- No, please! I'll get rid of it!" Noelle studders, as you feel the cookie tray begin to slide underneath you once more. "I'll just uh...put it outside, and then...we can get back to the projects!"
A blur of movement as hands move and shift. As humanoid shadows blur together and apart.
"Sure! I uh...gotta go and talk to Kris about something real quick anyways! Just hurry back!"
"What are you...talking to them about?"
"...Crime? Yeah, uh...crime! Real, real bad stuff! We just...don't want you guilty by association!"
Noelle giggles under her breath. You hear a scuffle as you're taken away, hear the door to the kitchen shut. Hear the sound of another opening.
The AC gives way to late summer heat. The door closes once more. You're outside.
"I uh...I'm gonna open this now, ok?" Noelle says down to you. "And you'll just...run off now and...do what mice do! Just...not in my house anymore!"
Your cage is opened. You float upwards and the light of the sun overwhelms you. Within the darkness of your various prisons, you don't know if you'd ever truly felt sunlight upon you. Not in a very, very long time. You know you've felt it before, but...not as you. It was liberating.
You relished the moment for as long as you could.
The gasp of shock from behind you cut it rather short.
"W-What-"
You come back to your senses, turning your...face? back to Noelle, and giving the best impression of a curt nod as you could. You would've prefered to say "thank you", but...you had no pen with which to write. No mouth with which to scream. It was the best you could do.
"What...are you?" Noelle says, looking out to you now with...curiosity, over fear. A raised eyebrow. A gentle hand that reached forwards towards the crack in your form.
You flinched backwards in pain the moment her hand brushed against it. Not quite a crushing grasp, not quite a hockey stick, but agitating a wound would only make it worse.
"Oh, I- I'm sorry! I didn't-"
Echos and thuds from within the house, growing closer. Something, someone stomps over towards the door. You dart upwards, away from the glass, away from eyesight as you hear it open.
"Noelle!"
"O-Oh! Susie, I...thought that you and Kris were-"
"Well, yeah, but...Kris said they wanted to uh...see the...rat!"
"Mouse."
"Yeah, whatever it was, just uh...before you let it go! Did you-"
"...Oh."
You press yourself against the wall, as tightly as you could. It agitates the crack in your form, but the pain is bareable, considering what may happen otherwise.
"I uh...already let it out! Sorry, it just...ran off!"
"...Darn. Well, uh...I'll go break the bad news. How about you go and...wait at the couch? I'll get us drinks and then we can...actually work on the project thing!"
"Y-Yeah! I was...wondering what you guys were gonna do, actually! What's your theme?"
"Well, it's uh...It's really complicated! And I...can't really explain all of it, Kris, knows it more, I-"
"...You guys haven't started it at all, have you?"
"...Shut up!"
...Noelle laughs again as the door opens and closes. You think to peek back down, but you remember well enough what Kris had done. For all you know, they were just waiting there. You wouldn't chance it again.
A flash of blonde hair and antlers as you drift past the side of the house. You stick to the wall. You stay high. You avoid the windows, until you come to the closest part of the house between the wall and the treeline. You and freedom.
“The hell do you mean you ‘can’t lose it?’ It was a mouse! What the hell were you gonna do with-”
...More pieces of conversation.
"What do you mean it was a SOUL? How did you-"
"What do you mean it was yours?!"
""...What do you mean it's 'listening to us?!' ""
...The kitchen window clicked open. You stared down at a disheveled bed of brown hair. The red flash of a bloodshot eye. The crushing grip of a hockey puck in its hand.
Hatred.
You launch yourself away, falling inert and rolling into the treeline in the distance. The puck connects with you, but it's far too little. Far too late. By the time Kris is halfway out the window, You're already back up in the air. By the time Susie pulls them back in, you're well behind cover.
Even behind the leaves and twigs, concealed entirely in the foliage of the tree, you can feel them staring at you. That same anger. That same desperation.
...That same fear.
If Kris couldn't make up their mind between wanting your help and wanting to beat you into a pulp, then you would make it for them. You were done being hurt.
You shimmer in your concealment, the best impression of a rude gesture you could give, before flying away into the distance.
...You felt odd as you flew away, a sensation not unsimilar to...homesickness. Stockholm Syndrome. The feeling faded as you came upon the streets of Hometown once more, staring down from the treetops.
The echoing of conversations from a group of monsters nearby. The smell of food cooking in the distance. The sensation of the leaves around you as you floated in silence. A stabbing pain as the crack along your form shifted.
...You were free. A prisoner without its cell. A cage without it's bird. A soul without it's vessel.
...You didn't know what to do with it.
...You didn't know if you really felt free at all.