The spirit, unlike most, watched in forced silence as those around it scrambled to and fro for freedom. In the midst of all the panic, the spirit remained loyal to its master and hurried over to the thorny boulders it knew all too well. Hands enveloped in a whitish blue, almost iridescent light, gripped the rough surface with little hesitation. Despite the chaos surrounding it, the spirit continued to work, much like a cog in a machine. It was such the fate for people like them. Even if they tried to escape, it would be fruitless as there was no way out. The boulders, the almost empty cage, and the gluttonous man that was their master, writhing in agony with those around him pulling on the pieces of metal that sewed the man's abundant stomach shut...they were surrounded on all sides, each side leading to death in the end. The spirit watched its brethren squirm around the choking man like ants preparing to feast. It made it understand even more how much lower they were in comparison; strength in numbers couldn't be more right in this situation.

So what was it going to do? Just act like nothing was happening, as it is currently, watch in hopes that something does happen, or assist in what seemed like a vain attempt of overthrowing their master? Thoughts of various degrees ran through the spirit's head, empty sockets being the only thing that could show emotion remaining still, almost unfocused.

Did it even deserve freedom? What would it do once it's free? Where would it go? This place is hell, that couldn't be argued, but it definitely seemed a lot better than venturing out to the unknown. Here it had shelter and a reason to live; was that not enough?

Far too conflicted, the spirit became unaware of its own body moving, unaware of the grotesque limbs and body parts of its brethren it ran through, and unaware of the risky move it decided to take on instinct; maybe strength in numbers was the key to success after all. It was only when the spirit latched onto the rusted staple that it realized where it was. It could see other spirits pulling on similar staples above and below it. This, of course sparked the spirit to do the same; if one couldn't beat them, then join them.

The spirit pulled at the rusty staple, putting everything into freeing the piece from its fatty prison. It yanked and struggled, until finally the metal popped out. It expected more blood to come out, but it was only a small drizzle as most of the other staples had already extinguished the blood from inside of their master. The spirit kept a tight hold on the man's flapping flesh in hopes of possibly tearing the skin.