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Apologies fot the apparent 'disappearance' of Part 16, but. I didn't do any writing yesterday, and so there was nothing to post in on Day 16, hence no Part 16. Dig? And, yes, I do feel wretched because I skipped a day...Like completely, plus I only did 700 on Staurday, and 200 today...This is not good.
"Hurt you...Hurt me. He did...Hurt not...me."
Did fish sleep?
Mikey wasn't sure, he'd never had one.
He was sure they must, nothing to do all day but swim, and try to forget things, and yet, he couldn't. By the time night fell, he felt the constant noise had become an entity entirely independant of anyone contributing, as if it was comforting to them, so they carried on.
They'd stripped him of everything he was, on the way through the 'check in' process. His demins for prison issue slacks, he was just another drone fish.
Fuck, Mike. You're in a jail cell. A fucking cage, man!
His head hurt with the ringing of metal on metal, cat calls, misery.
He shut his eyes anyway, which only served to amplify the racket within, above that of his fellow jailers. Inwardly, he screamed at the top of his conscience, the only sound it could make which expressed what he was feeling, so much better and more immediate than the vicious cycle babbling, and whining.
He imagined himself, a single ant amongst a thousand ants, each the same, and each trying to be heard, and not be stepped on.
What the hell was he doing here?
It's not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.- Frank N. Furter.