I could barely feel the cold breeze that flickered in through small cracks and crevasses in the walls of my confinement, filling the room with painfully chilled air that supplied little relief to my aching lungs. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sat, huddled into a tight ball, my small limbs convulsing madly in response to such horrid conditions- the chilling winter night air, the thick dust, the darkness and silence of the room I had been given, and the omnipotent stench of the dried blood caked to wounds upon my back. Hunger gnawed away at my very innards, which tossed about, grumbling and moaning, pleading even for some nutrition. These events were normal, however, and I must admit I had grown quite used to them. Of course, that didn't change the fact that I was greatly bothered by it all. What had I ever done to deserve such a fate? Had I disgraced my parents in some way before I was even old enough to learn their names? How did I even end up here? Those very questions raced back and forth in my mind so fast that I could barely grasp them, knowing all the while that those very thoughts constantly declared war upon the more appropriate and casual thoughts of a 7 year old child. Silently, I released my worst fears, my hatred, and all of the anger that coursed through my veins in a single stream of tears, which stung the wounds upon the back of my hands as I wiped them from my very cheeks. I shuddered softly at the sting and burn of my own tears, but I did not make a noise, for surely that brute would return if I were to so much as whimper in protest.

It was growing late. I could tell this by the seemingly endless torrent of blackness that swarmed around me, no light seeping in through the tiny holes which decorated my ceiling. It was also winter judging by the looks of the thick, gray streaks above me that blocked out even the moon and it's companions. I had to get some sleep, for the following morning was to be another hard day and without my rest, I would surely take another beating. Lying there, curled up tightly in the corner, my back pressed tightly to the wall, I was almost sure I could hear the quick, long strides of my 'father' as he moved from the dinner table to his own bedroom, not even once thinking to stop by and hand me a scrap or two. I was very hungry due to the fact that I hadn't eaten much for a week now. Within moments, however, the very footsteps I had imagined soon seemed to swallow me, sink into my mind and echo, resonating constantly in my head- and then come to a sudden stop. My eyes snapped open and I stilled myself, though the cold air was choking the very energy from my fragile bones. All was silent for what seemed like an eternity to me. Even my thoughts seemed to rest for what could have been the first time in my life. But it wasn't going to last very long. The silence was shattered by the turn of a key in my lock and the stubborn creak of my door as it flopped open, a blast of warm air rushing in and overtook me. I was very grateful for the sudden relief, but I wasn't to be fooled. Though the light that blasted in had nearly blinded my, I knew right away who had come to pay me a visit, for that form was unmistakable. Still in his work clothing, the large floppy feet and the brightly colored polka dots only added to the humor of his painted face and rather obese features, but I was not laughing. Douley was not a man to laugh at once his job was done, and judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes, one would estimate he had done quite well for the tent that day, for his drunken state could have only been the result of a reward from the boss. His flushed face was noticeable even beneath all the white and red make-up, and by the crooked way he was standing, I could tell he was beyond drunk. A rather morbid grin flashed across his face suddenly, revealing to me the rotting, misshapen teeth, which, surprisingly, had scared very few children in the past. They sure scared me, however. Fear coursed through my tiny body as would venom, consuming me slowly as I awaited whatever was destined to be. Surely, he was not here to visit me, for he had never come to see us children as anything but whining sacks of useless flesh. Especially children like me, clad in such garments that one would think me a performer such as himself. The bright yellow gypsy pants hung loosely from my waist, and even though a rope was pulled tautly about their rim, they had a tendency to slip from time to time. The top wasn't much better either, having been one of Douley's own uniforms from back in his slimmer days. One would never think it could belong to such a clown as himself, for it was ripped and torn in a multitude of places and dirt seemed to rest on every thread. Even the bright scarlet polka dots, which lined the yellow cloth, were faded to a dull pinkish tint. My hair, snarled and greasy as it was, was chopped evenly in the back and then tossed into a rather sad excuse for a pony tail, its neon green coloration seeming to draw more attention than the rest of my odd appearance. My feet were bare and so dirty that my very fur had seemed to turn a rusty brown color from my many months of toiling and laboring for the master. Anybody would be disgusted at such a pitiful sight, as Douley was. His eyes, though quite crossed and glazed over, were narrowed, and his eyebrows were pulled back against his pale face in such a way that I knew immediately what it meant. I was used to getting glances such as this, and yet, it seemed so fake. There was no way he could possibly be pitying me. And yet, slowly, he staggered closer to me. So close, in fact, that I could see the beads of sweat that raced down his forehead and absorbed quickly into the round ball attached to his nose. His grin widened into a rather pitiful smile, and his voice, though gruff and mighty slurred, seemed to hold so much kindness and pity that I could hardly believe it was the same man who had taunted me so many times before.

"Poor, Poor child…" he sneered, hiccupping softly mid-sentence. "Hungry?" He whispered, leaning over closer to me as if to disguise his words from any intruders. The potency of strong whiskey upon his breath nearly knocked me out as he spoke. From behind his back he pulled out a load of bread, pushing it in my direction and nearly dropping it on the dirty floor. I could do little more than gaze at the clown, frozen in fear and utterly stunned. He had to be messing with my head. There was no way this jerk could be offering me food! It was simply impossible! "Here! Take it!" He whispered, pushing to loaf into my chest and nearly knocking me over. Slowly, I reached for it, and when my fingers grasped it securely in place, I could have cried at the kindness of it all. He drew back, smiling softly as I nibbled away at the loaf, never taking my eyes from him, of course. Suddenly, his eyebrows drew together and a mutated smirk grew from the red paint upon his lips, and a hideous laugh fell from his lips. "You stupid mutt!" He snarled as he turned, screaming for his boss over his shoulder. "Eh, boss! Come here for a momen, would ya?" He laughed heartily, turning back to me. "You poor, naïve fool. I pity the poor broad who bore you!" His grin suddenly grew into a thick, even line which shone with an uneasy seriousness. "…Perchance that's why she dumped you here, you pathetic beast!" He roared. I heard the door slam again, and the sudden roar of laughter from Douley was a quick reminder of what was to come. Darkness flooded into the room again, absorbing the two familiar figures who stood so very close. Of course, they were not gone. I knew this by the sudden crack of the whip as it lashed out, it's spiny metal bearings ripping easily through my skin. "You little imp! You thieving, conniving little tramp!" He screeched with a heave as he lashed out at me again. The burning sensation caused my nerves to tingle with numbness and I could do little more than offer a sharp cry in retort. "Shut up!" He screamed easily over my whinings, which seemed to do little but fan the fire that raged within him. I could hear Douley laughing at his side as obscenities flooded into my ears, shame and embarrassment my only companions with each lash of the leather whip to my skin. Eventually, I gave up on my whines and I sat, silently- though trembling greatly- against the wall, my own blood tricking from raw red stripes about my back. The final blow came, and I felt my eyes clamp shut as I collapsed against the floor, an even deeper darkness than I had ever thought possible flooding into my mind.

But the laughing didn't stop. It never stopped. Rather, it grew into multiple chuckles and giggles of the most varying kind. I gazed about the room. The seat next to me was occupied by none other than Tuku, who was laughing along with a few rather odd visitors sitting across the desk, the bells in her hat jingling happily with the bobbing of her head. The visitors consisted of a rather pale brute who obviously needed some mental help, a female who seemed to be his companion, and two young boys who looked to be brothers, engaged in some play fight on the white carpeting. On the other side of the room sat Jamais, who fiddled boredly with a pencil and seemed to be paying little attention to anything that had been happening previously. I sighed softly, my eyes falling upon the paperwork I had piled before me. Gazing down at the page under my paw, I read the words "Delusional, paranoid, irrational beliefs. Presumed diagnosis: Schizophrenia." Another nutcase, committed to my asylum after causing some disturbance, and possibly putting the public population in danger. Thus was my life. In all truth, I had little faith that any of these mental cases would ever get out of this place, save for a few select patients who showed promising signs of recovery. Tapping my pen against the hard wooden table, I turned around and leaned against the desk, rolling my paw through my neon green hair. That nightmare had been such an accurate portrayal of my past, such a completely descriptive, perfect motion picture of my childhood… I must have fallen asleep at the desk. "Well hello there, boss!" joked Tuku upon realizing I had come to. "Have a nice little trip to dream world?" She giggled softly, the question obviously having been quite rhetorical. I shook my head and grunted in response, throwing my head back against the desk. What a nightmare….