Thomas returned about an hour later to unlock the cage. I watched the others file out, each wearing  their usual blank faces and glassy eyes. Marcus paused to give me a little wave from across the room as he left. I had to do a double take when he actually stepped outside of the cage and hopped gracefully to the ground below, with the rest of the mob. I could tell that his spirits had risen since my ordeal with Thomas the day before, just by the way that he walked with more purpose and confidence.

And for the first time since I'd arrived at Thomas's house all of those months ago, he was smiling.

My cheeks were still wet from crying so I rubbed my eyes and sat with my back to Thomas, who was passing the others food. I didn't look up as he gently unscrewed the lid of the jar and dropped a chunk of soggy buttered toast inside. I kicked the food away, my stomach feeling empty and remote, just like the rest of my body.

 I hugged my arms to my chest and stared at my feet as he sat down on his bed beside me. The jar seemed to work in my favour for once, as the glass walls started to fog up from the steam coming off the toast. I slowly stretched my hand out to the glass and traced a drawing of my mother onto the surface. My fingers wavered on her smile and I rubbed the sketch away with my sleeve. Thomas was looking at me, I could tell. I gave him the satisfaction of silence. He didn't deserve my acknowledgement. As he'd said, I was a bug, incapable of speech or human recognition.

Instead, my eyes wandered over the rest of the bedroom. Harriet, Abigail, James, Ebony, Russel, and even Marcus were gathered by a stack of chapter books on the floor. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked as though they were having some kind of competition. I watched as Russel sprinted towards the books, his feet streaking on the timber floor. He did a little bound and sprung upwards in front of the stack, his body spinning over into a graceful front slip. He landed on his feet on top of the book tower and bowed. The others clapped and cheered, and Abigail let out a surprisingly loud wolf whistle.

I felt Thomas's gaze on me leave as he looked over at Russel, who swung himself back onto the floor and smiled after his rather impressive jump. Harriet was next in line, and I watched in wonder as she ran at the books, broke into a round-off and then finished with a back flip onto the stack. I didn't think the petite, wispy girl had had it in her. Abigail and James whooped excitedly at her jump.

When Ebony had her turn she tore at the books in a blur and swung into a forwards back flip onto the tower, almost easily. Marcus ran up in a similar fashion, and did an elegant aerial onto the books. He stood on top of the pile, his face red and smile wide. I'd never seen him smile like that before. It made me realise how much had changed, just because I'd taken a stand against our captor. The other shrunken, who'd been bland and grey only hours ago now had lifted spirits, and a glimmer of hope for themselves. Whatever else happened, I wanted these feelings to stay.

A round of applause from the others followed Marcus's jump, and I joined in as loudly as I could, whooping and fist pumping. Marcus himself hopped off the books and was rewarded by a gentle hug from Ebony, and then a pat on the back from Russel. They were encouraging him, and I yearned to be there with him, too. Lord knows the guy needed some support.

But then the unusual thing happened.

Three booming claps sounded beside me, tearing through my eardrums. I clapped my hands over my ears to stop them ringing, and the others did the same... all except for Marcus. His beaming face went pale as a ghost, and he tensed up, turning to face Thomas, who stopped clapping and stared down at his shoes. Ebony and Russel muttered something to the group, and within seconds they'd started walking away to the cage with rushed movements.

I frowned. Why had Thomas clapped? I mean; he hated us. I snuck a glance at him, only to find that he was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands, which lay still in his lap. His face was almost as white as Marcus's. I averted my gaze as his eyes found mine.

I didn't get to see him smile.

****

 I sat there for a while, my hands resting in my lap awkwardly. Why had I clapped? I mean, I already knew that the shrunken could do parkour and gymnastics easily, but why now? Was it Marcus? I hadn't seen him smile like that in years, and I knew exactly why. Of course, it was Amy who'd yelled at me the previous day that had given him hope and made him feel alive again. And for once, I wasn't going to protest. I deserved it, after all. Even I myself couldn't deny that.

Amy was looking at me strangely, and I swear I saw her tired eyes glint. I didn't return the stare. Instead I stood up, stretched and began to walk to my door. My brain felt numb, uncaring. As I passed the unlocked birdcage, six pairs of eyes stared quizzically up at me, including Marcus's. Maybe this was the peak of my existence, the time where I let all of my emotions go to hell and give the seven people I'd abducted over the past 3 years their lives back. No, not just yet. I quickly looked down at the floor and shoved the bedroom door open, closing it behind me.

 I needed to be alone.

I needed to think about what was happening with me, after all these years of carelessness. Julie began to say hello from the kitchen as I walk over, but I waved her greeting away with my hand. I wasn't in any mood to talk. I started to jog as I got outside the house. The asphalt driveway crumbled underfoot. I ran through the gate and started along the dusty inclined countryside road, the sun still rising and casting a soft glare over my face.

I didn't stop to look at the scenery, though. Rolling hills, waist high grass, wooden fences, poppy fields and weeds simply flew by with the wind. I jogged along the highway, cars passing at 100 kilometres an hour ever minute or two. Some of the people inside were familiar, but I ignored them. It calmed me to run all of my emotions out, and while my chest burned uncomfortably the entire time, it felt almost peaceful to train my thoughts on something besides my muddled up life.

 Eventually I stopped, out of breath. I had no idea where I had run to. I'd veered onto a track about a kilometre back, and stood panting before a patch of dense bushland. I sat down under the fork of a spindly oak tree, by a half dried up creek. Sweat and dust caked my face and bare skin. I puffed a breath of relief and sighed, relishing the silence of the place. It gave me time to think about my situation.

Something at my stomach area burned through my shirt and my eyes widened suddenly, knowing what it was. I lifted the material up to my chest and swallowed a thick lump in my throat.

"Shit."

It was getting worse. I'd spent so much time thinking of other things that I'd failed to check up on it. I knew that it was spreading, though, yet I didn't realize the extent it had reached in less than three days of ignoring its progress. I gritted my teeth in both pain and fear, gingerly patting my stomach with a finger.

My waist and chest looked normal at first, but less than a month ago a strange black welt had begun to grow under the skin near my stomach. It had spread consistently over the weeks left unattended and now covered my entire chest. I watched in horrified silence as the purple tinged black tendrils which I'd figured out to be my veins twitched and writhed inside me. They looked as though they were seeping up to my left arm, and a few tendrils of black had already reached my shoulder.

What scared me the most was the fact that I knew exactly what was wrong with me. I'd known since the day they'd begun to appear around my stomach. It was the reason why I hadn't even bothered researching the symptoms. Because I knew exactly what they were.

Constant dizziness, searing pain in the areas affected, pale complexion, shortness of breath among many others. I'd done a research project on the disease with Marcus almost four years ago, but I knew everything about what was wrong with me long before that, even. I also knew that at the rate the cancer was spreading inside of me, I didn't have much longer before I would be forced to make the dreaded choice.

I had Shrignakemia, and my blood type was AB Positive.

It was just god's way of getting back at me for all the terrors I've caused during my life, all the friends I'd betrayed. Six people besides Ebony weren't even involved in putting my mother in jail, and like me, she'd learnt the hard way not to meddle with science, after her parents (who'd assembled the hearing in the first place) had been killed in a car crash setup. It was my own father who'd been behind the accident, and it killed him, as well as both Ebony's parents. All because my mother would never live one second free again, unless Ebony recovered from her depression.

So in a way, I'd ruined it for everyone, and now I was living with a time bomb strapped to my chest, slowly ticking down to zero. I knew from Sally Ryan herself that for Shrignakemia patients, the rate of the cancer spreading was different for everyone, but as soon as the darkened blood in my veins progressed to my brain, it would all be over.

And it was almost over.

The question was; would I do something about it?

****

"Why did you do that?" I asked, as Thomas settled into bed that night beside my jar. The giant boy in question only grunted, knowing exactly what I was referring to. I'd been thinking about the way he'd clapped for Marcus for the entire day while Thomas had been out; it gets pretty boring in a jar, otherwise. It blew my mind, the way he'd been so violent to me only a day ago and now he was applauding one of us for their acrobatics. It made me curious as to what exactly was going through the guy's head, and one way or another, I knew that I was going to find out. Talk about wishful thinking.

"I don't know." Thomas mumbled, after a pause. I tilted my head to the side, staring up at his face from inside the jar.  

"You don't have to make yourself hate us." I pressed. "It's easier to just... try to be forgiven." Thomas shifted in bed, his covers half covering him. He ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair and sighed.

"Yeah." He said finally "I know." I followed his example and put my hands behind my head on the tissue like a pillow, before closing my eyes.

"Goodnight." I whispered.

"Night, bug." Thomas said, his lips curling into a faint smile. I snorted and rolled over, the quietness putting me to sleep like a drug.