I'm trapped.

Trapped, locked in, cannot escape.

All I can see is forest. The forest in front of my bull's-eye.

Animals come and go, eat, sniff and rub their bodies on my iron prison. One of the boars even attacked the suit.

Naive animal, as if this monstrous botch of human handcraft could be destroyed. Oh no, I know how sturdy there things are. "Made for eternity", I would always say, taunting my victims. And the grim expression on their faces when I praised the construction design...

There are people who wouldn't have reacted defiantly, who would have begged, shown fear, but those kind of people I didn't put in the iron suits, it would be of no use, only serve to make them even more frightened and pathetic. No, I wanted to break the strong people, lay their world in ruins and watch as their iron will shattered like a delicate glass figure on the rocky bottom of a parched well.

The well had always been my favourite image for despair.

When I was but a little boy I used to throw annoying, or simply weaker children down the old well. I would grin like a goblin and leave them trapped there until one of their friends helped them back out, then I beat up both of them. At no time had there been a child that was not afraid of me.

It hadn't always been that way.

I was three years old, blondecurls, an angelic grin, the dearest son in the world, when Lily was born. Lily, my fragile little sister. She was the pride of the whole family, everyone loved her, my parents were overjoyed and I dutifully assumed the role of the big brother. I made her laugh when she was unhappy, sang her to sleep when she couldn't sleep and mother was too busy working in the farmyard. Later then, when she had learned how to walk, I took her along when I went to play with the other children. I was so proud of her and whenever someone bothered her, hustled her, stole her toys or made her cry, I defended her. I was the best big brother in the world.

Then, two weeks before her third birthday, I was just teaching her the intricate workings of twigball, when she started coughing. She hadn't been hurt that day, just once she had stumbled and fallen onto the soft grass. I couldn't understand it. My mother brought her to the healer, worried. The sickness wasn't curable, Lily grew paler every day, until one evening, three months later, she died in her sleep.

I was devastated. I just couldn't make sense of things anymore. My parents were grieving but didn't show it in front of me. The other children however were just a little sad for a few days, then went on playing as if Lily had never even existed. It made me angry.

They had just pushed aside my little sister, just forgotten her.

I couldn't let that happen. The day came when I started pushing them to the ground. I took my anger out on them, saw a threat to Lily's memory in every one of their movements, their happy moments.

Their pain became my pleasure, their despair made me feel good. The angry boy became a general, the well became an iron suit.

Now I'm stuck in the suit, I'm sitting in the well, but unlike me Cain said he would come back for me. For him the suit had been the only alternative to my death. Alternative, not preferred method, a promise of freedom, not a beating. Cain isn't me.

A bunny hops into my view. It is of a light brown and nibbling on a dandelion leaf.

No, Cain isn't like me. He offered me a way out, a chance to redeem myself. He believes I could be a different man, that the good brother that I once was is still inside me somewhere, sleeping, waiting for me to wake it up. I had chained and gagged that part of myself, called it weak, suppressed and ignored it. Cain had confronted me and pointed at the key to the chains, that I carry around my neck.

Is this frightened child inside me even still alive? Is it strong enough to lead me?

I have nothing to lose, but everything to win, my life.

Something inside me has loosened, a knot in my heart has sprung open. Something hot is running down my cheeks and it takes me a moment to realize that it's my tears. I haven't cried since Lily's funeral. It feels liberating. My whole body is shivering, I feel weak, vulnerable. Suddenly I'm glad I am inside this prison, it protects me. It keeps my broken mind together. At once I look forward to my release. The moment when I, the little boy from back then, will once again feel the sunshine on my skin. It is almost as if I can already feel the warmth, deep inside me, somewhere, like a hearth burning.

I remember the day when my made my last name into my nickname. "Call me Zero, 'cause you've got zero chance of beating me", I had boasted. Now that just makes me smile sadly in remembrance.

Someone has beaten me, the young Cain has caught me and the older Cain has set me free.

I can feel the freedom, in every single one of my bones and soon I really will be free. I counted the days, seen the darkness in the middle of the day and how it passed. They won, he will come back for me.

I don't want to think about it, that maybe he won't come to let me out, that maybe he was killed. I just don't aknowledge it as a possibility. Cain survived me, he survived this as well.

A liberator, a saviour, a Tin Man like him doesn't just die. He isn't dead, I know it, that certainty rests deep inside my heart. It may sound silly but that's how it is.

I hear the clapping of hooves approaching.