[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vcyTlTu.png[/img][/center][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙   / /   ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤   / /  𝟚𝟙𝟚𝟞[/color][/center][hr]

[center][h1][color=red]Ⓞ[/color][/h1][/center]

[quote][i]He hated his room.

Too hot in the summer.

Too drafty in the fall.

Too cold in the winter.

Metal bars across the inside of the window--as if he would have even tried escaping from the second floor. The bars just made it harder for him to plug up the gaps in the window frame; spring allergies.[/i][/quote]

Grass and dirt rubbed against his face, nicking at his scrapes and cuts. The uncomfortable feeling of prickly leaves and clinging dirt particles shuffled his memories elsewhere even as Christmas knew--[i]knew, knew, knew[/i]--that he needed to focus on something more important at the moment. He just couldn't identify what. It was like he was groping in the dark for his own mind.

[quote][i][color=f7976a]"Holy shit. Alan wasn't fucking kidding about you, Snowflake. You really don't get angry."

"Guess that means I don't have to worry."[/color][/i][/quote]

His left hand twitched, sending a sharp spasm of pain up his arm and into his shoulder. 

[color=8493ca][i]I'm here. I'm here. I'm here.[/i][/color]

The puzzle pieces were supposed to match up, but Christmas just shoved it all together into a messy pile. Even a facsimile of repair was fine. It probably all looked the same from a distance anyway.

[color=8493ca][i]I'm here. I'm here. I'm here.[/i][/color]

Thoughts formed at the pace of molasses and Christmas watched almost absentmindedly as his vision blurred, focused, blurred, focused--he almost got lost in that hypnotic pattern again.

[color=8493ca][i]I'm here. I'm here. I'm here.[/i][/color]

He balled his left hand into a fist, triggering another shot of pain through his system. Here. Like he had just stumbled onto the section of his mind that made sense.

And everything was hurting and stinging and he was shivering in the cold night air while thin trickles of warm blood dripping into the grass below reminded him that this was a battlefield and that he was going to die like this if he didn't move. It was silly, then, that his mind proceeded to check if his ribbon was still intact. The tail end of the cornflower blue ribbon fluttered against his temple. Still there.

A moment more and Christmas finally recalled the combination of terror and mental frailty that had obliterated what little fortitude he had mustered up. Weight on his body, fear for his life, pain.

[quote][i]And Alvin would be waiting around the corner.[/i][/quote]

Thinking straight was a skill Christmas had yet to master as he slammed his right hand onto his bandaged wrist. It hurt so much he couldn't even breathe for a few seconds, a long, soundless scream the best he could manage until tears and shuddering noises of agony finally pulled him back to where adrenaline could grab ahold of him.

His wrist throbbed and the spreading pain felt like he had set his entire arm on fire. This was no triumphant return to awareness. Just a weak, wounded crawl. But pain-addled and [i]here[/i] was always better than being [i]there[/i].

Christmas finally rolled onto his back, just in time to catch a blur of movement as Sander dashed towards one of the dolls that had made its way closer to the two of them.