Someone shook me awake. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and blinked twice, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I fumbled for my IPod reflexively, failing to grip its smooth surface. Instead I grabbed hold of something soft and squishy, that let out a sudden (and rather unexpected) yelp. My eyes widened in shock and I leapt to my feet, my head spinning from the confusion. A short, dark haired boy with pale green eyes cringed away, fiddling with the hem of his oversized shirt.

 “Sorry to wake you... Amy. My name’s James. Um… breakfast is here.”

Obviously, I still wasn’t used to seeing people my own size, but I tried to push that thought away as I regained my bearings. My hair had fallen out of its tie and was hanging loosely in a thick brown curtain around me. I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday... and my back was sore. Looking at my sock covered feet I realised that I 'd fallen asleep in the corner of the birdcage, listening to Marcus singing. The same dread began to build up once more in the pit of my rumbling stomach. I was still in the cage, still in Thomas's room and still with others just like me: small.

The cage was still covered with a thick, white sheet, but light had begun to filter through the seams, indicating that it was morning. Other than that, my sense of time was lost. I followed James towards the opposite side of the prison, where the five others from the previous night sat in a circle. Sitting down, I noticed that each person held a bottle cap in their laps, which was filled with what looked like steaming pumpkin soup. Having no cutlery, they drank straight from their makeshift bowls, but no one seemed fazed. Even Marcus was sitting with his shoulders slumped and long hair tied back out of his face amongst the others. As the two of us sat down, he nodded in my general direction.

"Your first breakfast here. Drink up." He said, pointing to a lone bottle cap of lukewarm soup in the centre of the circle. After a few seconds debating, I scooped it into my arms, cradling the warm vessel to my chest. The serving was far larger to what I was used to, but I said nothing. I didn't know what to say, anyway.

Six weary faces peered across at me, curiosity tainting their features. I knew they had questions. I did too, but I dared to say a word. Some of these people were only children, like James. Ebony looked like the eldest of the group.

"So," The teenager with the blackish brown hair said after a long pause, pointing nonchalantly to himself. "I guess we should all introduce ourselves to Amy, seeing as we'll be seeing each other for..." He shrugged. "Forever, maybe."

Harriet only rolled her eyes, blowing at her own soup with cracked lips. "That's Russel. He's eighteen, but Thomas got him a year ago."

"I could have told her that!"

"But you didn't." She countered in a bored voice.

I occupied myself in staring down at the warm orange liquid in my bottle cap, forcing back any signs of fear. It was never good to let emotions get the better of me, from previous experiences being held prisoner by Max's devious friends. Of course, I was always taken home in one piece during those unfortunate times. Something about this circumstance told me that Thomas Ryan was not one for playing games. After all, Marcus had been cooped up in here for the past three years, while the rest of the world presumed he was dead.

A girl with the red pigtails sat up straighter and grinned at me from the opposite end of our breakfast circle. “I’m Abigail and I turned nine last week! Were you really born this size?" She piped up with enough enthusiasm to make me feel sick. How could these people feel happy in a place like this?

I nodded once, and took a sip of my soup before anyone could question me further. The liquid burned my tongue but I forced it down. The tactic seemed to work, because in a matter of seconds, James had cleared his throat and spoke up.

“I’m nine too. Thomas found me a few months ago."

“I’m fourteen and have been here about eight months now.” Harriet continued, in a far softer voice.

Ebony huffed to herself before it was her turn to speak, clearly understanding how strange this conversation topic was. “I'm  20 this month. And it's been 2 years, I guess.” Her voice was piercing and blunt, just like the constant scowl etched into her face. She had her arm around the newly introduced Russel, so I figured the two had something going on together.

Before I could ask though, Marcus spoke up. "Three years and 17. They're your answers.” He said coldly, and I swallowed a new lump building in my throat.

“Well, I’m Amy and I’m almost 17.” I said.

“Welcome to prison!” Abigail said after a pause, clapping her hands together and beaming like an excited puppy. I gave another lop-sided smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. The same questions continued to circle through my head about how these people had come to accept their lives as prisoners... with Thomas. I refused to follow on with their crazy mindsets. As soon as my captor showed his fat face next, I'd have my revenge, and let me tell you that I'm not one to play nice...

“You don’t look 16.” Marcus said dryly, breaking me from my thoughts of brutally mauling the giant in question.

“What- because I'm five inches tall?” I countered, with even less enthusiasm. "Congratulations on stating the obvious."

He barely flinched. "What's the prize?"

I shook my head, still going through the whole process of marvelling the novelty that I was talking to people my own size, for once. It was a nice feeling to chat with those I could actually relate to, after many awkward rants with mum about things she'd never have understood herself. Sighing almost in content, I peered around the group, each person sipping occasionally at their morsels of soup.

“I have to get out of here.” I thought aloud, and Marcus looked up with cold blue eyes.

“No way will you ever get home. Not even if you escape this house. Thomas lives on a farm.”  

"W-W-Well I'd just turn into a borrower and trek the way back!"

Russel snorted under his breath at my rash words. “I made it to the front door once. He left his bedroom door open and I managed to sneak around his fat ass foster mum and outside. Missed his cat though. I swear to god he's trained the thing to pick up any tiny people and take them back to his secret lair.” I snickered myself at the way he made air quotes over the words 'tiny people'.

And so, a conversation of sorts was formed. The others wanted to know about my past life with mum and Max and due to some rotten luck, it turned out that all seven of us lived within Thomas's target zone, with Russel coming from some delinquent centre in Brisbane and the others originating right here in the Kingaroy district.  

“The minute I got let out of that blasted prison, he was onto me. The guy knows all about us, see? He's got files on everyone his mother's serum ever shrunk and he studies them. Every night.” Russel explained, causing me to shiver. What did he have on my file? Had this seemingly innocent teenager known about me for most of my life? It made me realise that my introverted, quiet life had been the one thing keeping from getting abducted sooner. If I'd have left for high school any earlier, I would have wound up in this birdcage just like the others. In a way, my boring old past had saved my life.

Of course though, I had to have taken a stand against it eventually. And if it wasn't that year, then it would have been at one point.

No one does themselves any good cooped up at home all day.

“He came to my primary school with a few other high schoolers for this buddy program. It took him a day to take me here." James added with renewed vigor.

“Me too!” Abigail piped in. "James and I were best friends, there."

Harriet laughed, but there was a bitter edge to her voice. I couldn't help but notice it.

“I have to get out of here.” I kept repeating, both aloud and in my head. I thought that if I kept saying those seven words, I could shake some hope into the others. Yet no one believed me. Marcus smiled sadly and asked:

"Now how do you plan on doing that?"

And then no one would say much else. Maybe that would be me in a few days. Maybe Thomas will take my spirit away, too, just as he'd taken Marcus away from his life as a teenager all those years ago. Deep down, a part of me knew that one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a month's time, I'd become just like the other prisoners. If I didn't get out soon, I'd be reduced to a crazed being without any remaining hope...

No.

I would never lose hope.

I would get out.

Find my family and live life again. There was still a chance, and when I found it, I'd cling to it and never let myself go.

So with those thoughts in the back of my head, I swallowed my last mouthful of pumpkin soup and grinned at my new friends.