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Let me out.

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His nose burned from how awful the small room smelt, and it would probably be enough to make him puke if he still had anything left in his stomach. He could barely even manage to walk around. with all the clutter and muck in his way.

He wanted out. He wanted out, he wanted out now, and he was determined to find a way.

The door was still locked, but he would find a way.

He started sifting around the room again, looking for anything that may be able to assist him in his escape, a n y t h i n g at all, please, please, he couldn't stay in here much longer-

The drill maybe? There was an old drill still lying about that they forgot to take from him, maybe he could eventually drill his way through the door? He pressed the button, once, twice, feeling hopeful at first when it stuttered and whirred to life, but stopped only seconds later. He threw the tool down in frustration, huffing and turning around after the small outburst, searching once more.

Maybe the wall? Maybe there was a hollow spot in the wall? He walked over to one of the walls, knocking on different spots, trying to hear if any sounded different, sounded hollow.

He spent a while doing this.

His eyes widened a bit upon finding a spot that indeed, sounded different from the other spots. Oh, how he hoped this would work.

He messed around with the phone in his hands, unsure of whether he should set it down for this or not. He decided, he would continue holding it.

He readied himself, deep, shaky breaths, "N-ngh-!" before ramming one arm into the wall, giving a pained grunt as he did so. He backed up a bit, and did it again. And again. And again. And kept it up 'til his arm was sore and bruised up, eyes tearing up some from the aching in his arm.

He had to stop for a bit to catch his breath. Looking up at the spot he'd been hitting, he nearly grinned at the sight of the wall starting to break. Yes. Yes, yes!

He rised again, quickly getting back to work, hitting and hitting again, first with his arms and shoulders, then his fists, the wall gradually falling apart.

Until it was finally enough to go through.

He went to leave, giddy to get out of place, but turned back, grabbing the Money Man he had made a long while ago, and gently placing him at the other side of the hole in the wall. His little buddy deserved a chance to leave, too.

He then crawled over to the other side after that, scurrying out as quick as he could, turning around for a moment to look back at the room, before facing forward again to look ahead.

Hopefully this leads to a way out.

He started crawling. And he kept crawling, stoping occasionally to remove the splinters that caught in his hands and legs. The ones he could actually reach, at least. This place was so cramped. It was, a little difficult to crawl through.

He crawled for so long. So, so long. Until he saw something.

Until he saw light. Light, shining through the small cracks in the wood. Not very bright, but it was visible enough. He heard things on the other side too. He heard crickets chirping, and frogs croaking, and wind, oh, he could hear the wind, and he could feel it, too, feel it through the cracks in the wood.


He had never wanted to be outside as badly as he did now.

He looked down at his bruised hands, and got to work again. Bringing one fist back as far as he could, and slamming it against the wood. And then he did it again. He repeated the process, not as long as he had to last time, but long enough. And then it broke down. A bit smaller and sharper than the last, he would have to force himself through, and it would hurt, but he could do it.

He crawled to it, and tried putting his arms through first, planting them firmly on the ground, and digging them into the dirt, pulling himself, dragging himself through, feeling the sharp bits dig into his sides and into his back and gut, whimpering at the pain, but continuing, continuing until he finally dragged himself to the other side.

He did it. He did it, he got out, he finally got out.

He was free.

He breathed in, deeply. It smelt so much better out here. And there was so much room, and he could breathe again. He looked up at the sky, that dark, dark blue sky. Just sat there, and stared. And he smiled. Oh, he smiled.

He smiled until he didn't.

And then he started thinking. And everything dawned on him, everything that has happened dawned down on him, and he felt a cold sick feeling in his stomach, bubbling and driving him mad, making him nauseous. He felt like he was choking, and his eyes got cloudy. And he cried. Tears poured from his eyes, and he hunched over, curling into himself. He sobbed. He sobbed until his eyes were burning and sore, and until his throat was raw, and even then he kept crying, he kept crying until he couldn't anymore, eventually quieting down into small, frequent sniffles and rough coughs, and then that calmed into near total silence.

He stared down at the ground, at himself. Staring, for who knows how long.

And then he got up, and started walking.