No Hand on the Reins

Adam Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels Adam was not someone who commonly gave in to melancholy. In fact, he commonly tried to purposefully hit it away, get rid of it. Melancholy was dangerous, led to thinking and nostalgia, bad memories threatening to rush in at the edge of his mind every moment he entertained it. No, he had carefully constructed his persona to be entirely free of misery of any kind. With all that said, he was stuck in a big fucking pit. The first couple of days it had been relatively easy to keep up his spirits. Coffee was good enough company and he had appreciated the chance to rest. The bed in the cave had been a good place to lay and take pills that took him to other places and there had been enough food to make do. But then the others had joined. Amalia, from the bakery, and someone else he didn't know. They certainly knew each other though, and Adam immediately felt like a third wheel in what was by all fairness his pit. He'd been there first. Shortly after Amalia and Kiada dropped in he began to spend a lot of the day laid in the bed, staring up at the ceiling of the cave and dangling one foot over the edge, wondering when they were going to kill him (that had to be what this was, right?) or how they'd do it. He'd escaped many nooses and one guillotine before, but one day his luck would run out...his fingers reached up to touch the thick, ropey scars across his neck and face. With a sigh, he turned and stared at the mouth of the cave, wondering where the others were. But I am just a broken machine And I do things that I don't really mean