It seemed like hours before the sheet was pulled off the birdcage. I’d been lying on my back up on one of the bird perches, my legs dangling off the edge. The other cellmates had suggested that I get myself some alone time, to 'let my situation fully sink in', and had taken to busying themselves elsewhere. So it was pretty startling when the entire prison rattled to life as the sheet was removed by giant hands. I shook violently and almost toppled off my perch, but my sweaty palms managed to take hold of the wooden pole to stay upright. I blinked back the sudden onslaught of sunlight to clear my vision, but when I saw who was outside the cage, I really wish I'd just stayed blind.

Thomas stood over us, his skyscraper tall body daunting yes, but unusual no. While my thoughts on the guy as 'intimidating' were actually quite low, it still sent anger rushing through my veins at the sight of the devil's smile on his face.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted almost instantly by Russel, who grumbled from the base of the cage and folded his arms. By the look on his face, the guy was just as unfazed as I was by Thomas's sheer size, but I knew that it was from past incidences, rather than my own unique way of seeing the world in a 'normal' way.

 “About time. It was getting stuffy in here.” He snapped bluntly, earning a manic chuckle from Thomas. The giant mumbled something incomprehensive and chucked the sheet onto his bed. I tried not to yell at him, and instead averted my gaze. The first thing I noticed was just how casual everyone seemed to appear, after Thomas's random appearance. Marcus hadn’t even bothered looking out of the triangular happy hut he'd settled into hours before. Everyone seemed so routine, so... alien. It made me realise once again just how accustomed these people were to being cooped up in a birdcage their entire lives. I wasn't going to let that become my own mindset.

Thomas kicked the door of his room shut with a click. His eyes scanned the cage boringly and, feeling his scrutiny, settled back into my relaxed position on the perch and shut my eyes. I was used to being stared at by everyone from the inside of a jar, and the cage was no different. Determined to ignore him for as long as possible, I let out a quiet, yet audible snore. If the guy was dumb enough, he might've thought I was asleep. But, despite my best efforts, I felt his giant gaze through my closed eyelids. I huffed a sigh and opened my eyes, pretending to wake up from a long slumber.

"Can we keep this short, big guy?" I snapped. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

Like before, Thomas's initial reaction was shock at my taunts, but in seconds the calm demeanour of yesterday's performance had returned. “Faring well I hope, Amy? Your punishment for giving my mother a life sentence in prison is a life sentence in prison. Fair enough deal, I believe.” He cooed, and I could tell he was challenging me to continue.

And being the snarky little bugger I was, the words were out of my mouth before I could even stop them.

"Hmm, my back's a little sore. I think a nice comfortable bed will do the trick. Other than that, I am in fact, faring well." I said with every ounce of smugness, cracking my weary back to emphasise the predicament.  

 “I'm afraid that's out of the question.” Thomas replied, cracking another of his shark's grins. "My mum doesn't get a 'nice fluffy bed' so neither do you."

I shrugged. "Well that's a shame. She must be in serious need of a physiotherapist, then. That back would kill for a checkup!"

His eyes narrowed, and for a fleeting moment I thought I'd gone too far, but instead he just sighed and muttered "Shut up." Then he closed and latched his bedroom window and opened the cage door without a word.

“You’ve got two hours. I have to be at soccer in a bit but you know the drill. The window and door will be locked and should you refuse to return to your cage when the time is up, there'll be consequences and believe me," His eyes flickered back to me, cold and hard. "You don't want to find out what they are." With that, the asshole in question walked across the room to collapse onto his bed lazily. He flicked a lamp on and grabbed a crinkled sports magazine, beginning to immerse himself in the pages. And for a good minute or so, the world was silent.

Creepily silent.

 Russel was first to exit the cage. I watched as he took a run up, sprinted to the very end of the cage and gracefully leapt through the opened wire door like a gymnast, which was at least twenty centimetres off the ground. The others followed suit within seconds, apart from Marcus, who didn’t move at all. He remained completely motionless above me, his legs dangling from the happy hut entrance. I stood up, shaking at first on my thin perch before making a expert jump for the next highest one. I grabbed it and with routine motions swung myself onto my feet.

I’d never been scared of heights, and I don’t think anyone my size would be, considering we live our lives up far higher than the average person. Those thoughts flickering around the back of my head, I grabbed the soft surface of the happy hut and pulled myself inside. There was plenty of room there for at least 5 people of my stature, so space wasn't that much of an issue. Marcus, registering movement, looked up groggily at me and sighed.

“What.” He asked, and I creased my brow, surprised by the lack of interest in his tone.

“The door is open.” I muttered lamely. He shook his head once and lay back once more, his blank gaze facing the ceiling of the happy hut.  

“When you’ve been here for more than three years you’ll realise that there is no point in trying anymore.” Was all he said. I bit my lip, crossing my legs underneath me to sit beside him. He didn't even bat an eyelid at my presence, his eyes glassy and faraway.

“You must have hope, Marcus." I mumbled. "Why are you still alive and breathing if you don’t? I can get us out of here.”

That only brought a sad smile to his face. “The sooner you realize you’re never going to see your little family again, the better." He said in a scary calm. "You don’t know anything about this place! You think being here a day will give you all the facts?" A sigh escaped his lips. "You should go out with the others. Maybe they'll talk to you about life here. I doubt I'll shine a decent light on the topic."

I flinched at the harshness of his voice but didn’t question further. I guess I knew that this guy just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. The whole scenario made me wonder just what Marcus thought about. Did he dream about somewhere better, where he and his family were together again, or did he reflect on his memories. I knew for a fact that his past friends reflected on memories of him; Gaby, Kyle... So many people were torn from his grasp, simply because of a basket case teenage boy who couldn't let a grudge go. It made me feel sick.

Knowing that nothing I could say would convince him to come with me, I climbed back down to the base of the cage and yanked myself out and onto the stool it rested on. The stool itself was low, compared to the other furniture, so I still had to crane my neck to see what was going on around the room.

Thomas, the only regular sized person in the bedroom was still flipping casually through his magazine, with earplugs in his ears. His head, resting on a pillow, nodded slightly to the rhythm of his music. An IPod sat on his desk beside the bed, and I couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy at the sight of the device. The IPod had always been my favourite piece of equipment in my home, and I constantly surfed the net, posted images on Instagram and watched videos that reminded me of just how boring my life was. It was quite sad to look back on it in that way, actually.

I noticed Abigail and James sprinting across the creaky wooden floorboards, performing pretty ambitious gymnastics moves that even I hadn't yet thought of. Harriet was reading one of Thomas’s magazines that she’d found strewn across his floor. She lay on her belly and stood up when she had to turn the pages with both hands. And then there were Russel and Ebony, almost completely out of sight at the far end of Thomas’s desk... kissing. It had been pretty obvious that the two of them were together, after all. Either that, or I'm smarter than your average bear.

Eventually, I looked down from the edge of the stool to find a fluffy green pillow below. I had to roll my eyes at Thomas's 'courtesy' for putting the thing there and avoiding any unwanted sprained ankles. So without a second thought, I stepped off the side of the wooden platform, falling a good forty centimetres before hitting the pillow dead in the centre. I bounced a little and pushed off the pillow’s surface to land lightly on the floor.

To put it simply, Thomas’s room, like everything else, was huge. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my striped sweater- I hadn’t changed clothes since arriving here- and began an introductory trek across the floor. Building sized pieces of furniture passed overhead, but without any memories of being a regular height, they were what I called normal. I paused underneath Thomas’s bed and glanced upwards, having heard the vibrating tune of ‘Good Riddance’ by Green Day pump through his ear buds. His eyes didn’t seek me out, but continued to scan his magazine.

He hadn’t noticed me.

I glanced at the desk towering above me like a skyscraper and scratched my head in thought, finally spying the cord to his lamp and deeming it perfect. My hands wrapped around the white rubber power cord and I pulled myself upwards, my muscles barely feeling the strain at all after so many years of scaling furniture. I gripped the wooden surface of the desk edge and I clambered up, steering clear of Russel and Ebony snogging in the corner behind a tin of pens. My sock covered feet were silent against the wood of the desk and I stood for a moment beside Thomas’s bed, trying to figure him out.

His head rested less than a metre away from me, as he flicked through the magazine. I sat down ever so quietly and rolled over to look at the IPod, still resting at the edge of the desk. It hadn’t self-locked itself yet, so I used my palms to find the all too familiar Instagram app. I hummed the lyrics to the song he was listening to while I waited for it to load, head filled with a hornet's nest of thoughts.

Thomas’s account was already logged in when I opened the app and, my stalker gears clicking into place, I began looking through his pictures. My eyes stopped on a particular shot of a younger Thomas hugging a thin, tanned lady with long blonde hair. She wore a lab coat and small, rectangular glasses. With a jolt I realized that this was his mother, Sally Ryan. The woman who'd been sent to prison for screwing up her cure for Shrignakemia all those years ago.

This was the woman who'd saved my life.

 Aware of respecting privacy, I closed the app and shuffled away from the IPod as discreetly as possible. Instead, I took to lying flat on my back facing the expanse of the ceiling for a while, singing softly to myself as Thomas listened to new songs. As it happened, despite our obvious differences, we had a similar taste in music. He was into Imagine Dragons, Boy and Bear and Flume, with a few DJ Snake or Alt-J songs popping up in between. After a good minute or so, I felt my eyes drifting shut as I hummed...

"What the hell?"

... So I didn’t feel Thomas hit me until I went flying like a rag doll across the desk and whacking into the pen tin on the other side. The force of the movement knocked the tin over, and I heard a muffled squeal as Ebony and Russel scrambled to their feet to avoid being squashed by the car sized cylinder. Pens clattered to the floor around them.

I blinked several times to clear the ringing in my head, but when my vision came back into focus and I saw two huge, blue eyes staring straight at me, I wished it hadn't. Thomas reached out and before I could even move, let alone think up a sassy response, he had both his enormous hands over my body like a rough, callused cocoon. Everything was dark for a second, before I was scooped sideways into his grip and yanked roughly into open space. His iron hand was wrapped around my chest and waist, so I struggled to breathe as he trained his eyes on my shocked, sweaty face.

"You... k-keep interrupting m-ah beauty s-sleep..." I stuttered out, coughing.

“For god’s sake you lousy shit! Put her down!” Ebony yelled from the desk, with Russel nodding in agreement beside her.

 “Shut up!” Thomas yelled with such harshness that I covered my ears and hissed in pain. His words pulsated through me so sharply that I almost fainted right there in his grip. The giant continued to glare at me so, once the pain had subsided enough, I sighed, resting my head on my hand with a bored expression.

“What do you want?” I asked. "It better be important, seeing as you went all Jackie Chan on my face!" I pat the forming bruise on my cheek to emphasise the point, where I'd hit the pencil tin in the first place.

“You were lying next to me, singing.”

“Yeah… So? Are you going to punish me now, big guy?" I snapped. "I'd be shaking if you weren't cutting off the circulation from my waist down!"

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You aren’t allowed to be near me. You have to hate me. I want you to feel the pain and loneliness my mother is feeling in prison.” He fired back, squeezing his hand tighter around me until I felt a wrench of white hot pain.

“I swear if you squeeze me any harder, my breakfast will make an uninvited reappearance!" I warned, before sighing and coughing up a gasp of air. "Why do I need to hate you, anyways?” I stuttered.

That was when I saw it. The cold, uninviting glare vanished and was replaced by that of a concerned, confused teenager. But within seconds, his emotions returned to their normal fiery anger and he squeezed me so hard I could barely scrape a breath without throwing up the poor contents of my stomach.

"Oww! Why the hell did you do that-"

“Because I captured you and have sentenced you to life imprisonment. That’s why.” He interrupted, eyes ablaze. "Maybe this will teach you to hate me."

All of a sudden, the immense pressure around my chest and lower body vanished and I was left dangling by the collar of my sweater hundreds of stories above the ground. I gasped, head whipping around to peer up into Thomas's cold eyes with renewed fear. I knew there this was going.

"Listen- you really don't have to do this! I can just walk away and pretend nothing ever happened..."

The giant only shook his head, almost sadly, and held me further away from him. We locked stares for that one fleeting moment, my expression fearful and his faraway.

"I have to make you hate me. It's what you're here for." He said calmly, and I opened my mouth to speak but the words caught up in my throat.

Because then I was falling, air filling my compacted lungs and whistling through my hair. Thomas's hold on my shirt vanished. I flailed my arms around wildly, but before I could even think of a landing I'd survive from, I hit something hard and everything went black.

*****

Marcus poked his head out of the happy hut. His head ached, a dull throb that was caused by Thomas’s scream. He’d yelled more than once, obviously, but this was unexpected. Thomas was standing up off his bed, looking down at a writhing figure in his left hand. He had Amy tightly in his grip and was barely containing his anger as she spoke. Marcus couldn’t hear her soft voice over Thomas’s, but he knew she was acting quite calm. As if she’d been in a situation like this more than once… 

He sighed wearily and lay back down. Amy could learn not to piss off Thomas the hard way.

Suddenly though, everything was quiet. There was a small sound that reminded Marcus of a door knock and then a ragged scream. The scream didn’t belong to Thomas, though. It was feminine and racked with pain and...

Marcus was sitting up before he could rationally decide what he was doing and peering outside. Harriet had both hands to her mouth and was staring at a crumpled figure, her right leg and left ankle twisted in an odd angle and her body bruised to purple on the timber floor.

Amy.

Barely alive, yet Thomas had flopped back on his bed and was on his IPod again seconds after he'd dropped her.

Marcus fumed.

His hands trembled, memories of his own past of torture at the hands of his former best friend flickering through his head and staining him with the permanent reminder that Thomas had ruined him. It was never easy to think about.

He was out of the cage and by Amy's side in seconds. He didn’t recall himself leaping through the cage opening or rolling onto the pillow or even streaking across the floor toward her. Harriet opened her mouth in surprise at his exit but didn’t comment. Tears were rolling down her cheeks at the sight of the new girl.

Amy lay still as a corpse, her breathing ragged, as if someone had ripped out her vocal cords. Her long hair tumbled around her, as still as she was. Marcus cursed. He faced Harriet with stern eyes, refusing to even spare Thomas himself so much as a glance.

“Get James and Ab and a pair of scissors.” He yelled urgently. Amy’s breathing was fading at a rapid rate, and her pulse fluttered like a scared bird’s. Marcus had experienced injuries like this before, though, and knew exactly what to do. Once, when he was alone with Thomas, he’d almost died when he’d been dropped in that way. It pained him more than anything else to remember those moments of complete and utter betrayal.

So he didn't.  

Instead, he trained his attention on Abigail, James and Harriet as they returned, holding the giant pair of scissors between them. They grunted under their weight but didn’t question him. No one really bothered with him anymore, to say the least. They all knew he was experienced. Three years of confinement could do a lot to a person.

“Cut her hair short. I can’t work around it.” Marcus muttered. Harriet hefted the scissors onto one knee and squeezed the blades together across Amy’s hair. The locks separated with a simple snip and spilled out around her. Now that he could see her better, Marcus noted that her eyes were closed tightly, her face pale as a ghost and contorted in pain. He sat himself down beside her and pressed his palms down onto her chest. He pushed them in, and relaxed, in, relax. In. Relax. In. Relax…