The website is not letting me submit copied and pasted documents for some reason. That's why there was no upload Sunday. I was too tired Monday. I ended up just having to upload a file instead. Sorry it's short!

It had been four and a half days since the group had been closed up in the wall. Seven had taken to pacing around and getting in everyone elses business. She and Eight tried to spar occasionally, but One would always yell at them that they'd end up knocking something over or hurting someone. Three and Four noticed how wound up she was, and stayed out of her way. Five took from their example.

Eight, who was used to following One around, almost acted as if he was a little irked by the smaller doll. Like Seven he was active and needed something to occupy himself. He may not ever have desired to run off into the house to be alone, but even he had his limits. Eight wouldn't openly say or do anything bad towards One, but everyone could see he was just a bit exhausted.

Five's mentor and close friend, Two, was typically with someone or taking apart and putting back together things. He didn't show how bored he was, other than with his habitual re-arranging of their stuff. He had nothing else better to do. Two looked like he was thinking a lot. Sometimes he would stare at the bricked up door.

The Twins were mostly pissing everybody off. On the third day One snapped at them and Eight threatened them, so since then they had been keeping to themselves. It was a little creepy, as keeping to themselves simply meant they would watch you from a safe distance rather than get in your space. If you caught them staring, they wouldn't look away.

Everyone kept away from One, other than Seven, who tended to bump into him roughly if they were close enough. One refused to bicker with her, because she was a lot more violent than Two was. Arguing with her would be much different. Even though the stitchpunks gave One a lot of space, he liked to walk around and judge them at close range often. His harrumphing was getting old and annoying.

Five liked to think he and Six were the most tame of the cooped up dolls, after Two. Six, who was very perceptive of others, did not speak to any one stitchpunk if he thought they were feeling too holed up. It wasn't much different for Six. He generally didn't go outside. The days were normal, and he would follow Five or Two around as such. Other times he would be with Squeakers, whispering to himself. If you asked him he would say he and the doll were talking.

Five took up the hobby of wall-watching. That is to say staring at the muddy colored wood that separated the hollow from the outside and day dreaming. If he was really bored he would take things apart with Two. At least that helped him memorize how certain things went together. He kept watch over Six, and found himself looking off to find the odd doll with his eye frequently. They talked a lot.

Sometimes in their boredom, and if they were not close enough to pester anybody, Five would have Six lightly tap on the floor and Five would hum to it. It was the closest thing to music they had, and amused Six. Neither of them knew any actual songs.

Other than the tension between One and Seven the past four and a half days were peaceful. Six did not have anymore nightmares. Five liked to imagine that it was because he and Six shared a bed now. Even so, sometimes Six would look frightened, stare hard at the door or wall, shudder violently, then suddenly shake his head and pretend he hadn't. Five didn't bring up his previous nightmare, so neither did Six.

On the sixth day of containment One jostled Five awake in the early morning. The erratic movement made Five sit up as if from a scare. Still shaken, Five found himself wide awake and in bed. He looked up into the bothered face of One, which really did nothing to help him. His first thought was that One had some how found out that Five had lied to him a few weeks back, and was here to tell him off. Five was honestly too paranoid. "W-what?"

"I've been meaning to ask you," One began pleasantly, pointing at still sleeping Six who was tangled up in the covers beside Five. "why isn't he sleeping in his own bed?"

The tone of voice coming from One made Five extremely nervous and jittery. He looked down at Six, who was somehow ignorant of them speaking. He had been sleeping well since they started sharing the blankets. Five was glad, as Six actually would become tired if he did not rest, unlike the other stitchpunks who could go a good few days awake. Eye back to One, Five shrugged.

"W-w-well. He. Umm. Six.. was h-having a hard time. Going to s-sleep, I mean."

One leaned forward against his staff and squinted down at Five. He was quiet for a minute, scrutinizing him. "Oh?"

Five nodded, unable to keep eye contact any longer. He locked his eye on the pink fabric that still covered his bent legs.

"Why, pray tell, did that mean he was to come and sleep in your bed?"

Five shrugged, pouting. His mind was going blank.

One nudged Six with the bottom of his staff. He nudge him some more. "Six, wake up." When Six didn't stir, One whopped him a little more roughly against his hip.

The force evidently got to the sleeping stitchpunk, as he cried out with sudden fear and leaped away from the covers, running into the wall in his haze. "Ow!" he whined, finding himself sitting on the floor with a soft twang of pain where One had got him. "Mean!"

Five glared up at One. Even though One hadn't hit him very hard, Five was upset in the way he'd gone about waking him. He felt anger swirl in his threads. "Why'd you do that?" he asked, obviously peeved.

"To tell him to go back to his own bed." One looked at Six. "Six. Go back to your own bed." Back to Five. "See? Not so mean."

Six looked shocked. He barely registered what was being said. After being shoved into the waking world, his side aching, here One was saying strange words. All he understood was he was not welcome where he was at the moment. He stayed quiet and frowned, twiddling his sharp fingers. He wanted to find his doll in the mess of covers, but did not want to move.

Five, still rather annoyed, moved positions so he was standing, albeit backing up first. If he took another step he'd be against the wall. "What for?"

One rolled his eyes, as if listening to a rebellious teenager. "He has his own bed, he should sleep in it."

"W-well, the twins and Seven do it too!"

The leader's brow rose. "Do they now?" he replied, looking down the hall. "Guess I know who to talk to next."

Five guffawed and crossed his arms. One's argument was stupid. It was illogical. Just because Six had his own bed didn't mean he couldn't come sleep with Five. It may have been One trying to release his tension through a small show of power, but that didn't matter to Five. He crossed his arms.

"Either way," One quickly continued. "if Six doesn't like sleeping in his own bedding, then he can simply... sleep on the floor." One smiled, then waltzed away before Five could protest any further.

Five sighed, letting go of most of his irritation. His arms fell loose beside him, and he looked down to a still shocked Six. "Are you okay?" he cooed, getting on his knees beside Six.

Six glanced at Five, and shrugged a shoulder. "Mean."

"I know. He is mean." Five agreed. "Did he hurt you?"

Six shook his head no. "Not hurting anymore."

Five watched Six for a few seconds. The stripped doll was very stiff, as if scared to move. "Six. He can't force you to sleep on the floor."

"Can too."

"Not if you don't let him!"

Six scowled gently. Five rarely saw him make an angry face, so it surprised him. "Uh-huh! Eight will."

Five didn't think of that. He pursed his lips and settled his back against the wall, feet barely touching his blankets that were laid out just before them. "Then I guess I'll come to your bed, instead!"

The other perked up, grinning. "Really?"

Nod. "He didn't say I couldn't, did he?" Five knew he was just trying to bide time. He didn't want Six being alone at night any longer. Not if it meant he'd wake up with the lingering fear of a cat beyond the door. Even if Five had no proof that sharing a bed was what helped Six, he felt it was better for him anyhow. If Six did happen to wake up scared, Five could perhaps comfort him a little.

It was day nine. It had been a little over a week. Two had told Five he wanted to punch a few more little holes up at the top wall so more light would penetrate during the day. He had no way of doing this. While Two had a small screw driver that he figured might suffice as a hole punching tool, he could not actually reach the high wall. They came up with the idea of throwing a rope with something that could latch onto the holes.

The problem was that they had only thin string. They would need thread that was thicker and could support the weight of either of them. And as a precaution they would also need a cushion below in case someone fell. Cotton from the pillows upon the outside bed would work- but the bed was on the other side of the wall, beyond the brick.

Two and One once more began to argue, and it didn't help that Seven would sometimes join in. The Twins often hid, and Eight would pout. He was tired of the bickering as much as anyone else.

Amidst the arguing, Seven would often scold One for ever trying to separate her from the Twins, and for doing the same to Five and Six. Eight had originally forced Five to sleep on the floor, since Five moved to Six's bed the day One had first got onto him. But two days later, One being exhausted from the discontent of his group members, finally stopped his power trip and let them do as they pleased.

Two made the point that not only did they need this thicker thread and cotton, they still needed more batteries and paper. The wood supplies were running low, he said, and that was because they hadn't collected much before the doors were closed off, relying more on the new light bulbs.

On day nine One finally threw his hands up and said "Fine! Go scavenge, get killed by a machine, see if I care!"

So, happy, Two, Seven, and Five got ready to go outside. As the brick was begrudgingly pushed away, Six came up and tugged on Five's arm. "I wanna go! I wanna go!"

At first the party said it was a bad idea. Six could not defend himself. Even Two, with his weak joints and slow pace, could hold and use a weapon. Six was barely brave enough to hold a needle. But Five convinced Seven and Two, as they sympathized with the little doll, being that Six had not been outside the house at all.

After the four took up their sizable bags, they each grabbed a weapon. Seven had a sharp metal razor on a thin rod, Two had a short knife made of glass, Five held the experimental weapon that would eventually become a masterful crossbow, and Six, as expected, refused to hold anything more than a long, thin needle. They were prepared, in any event, to protect themselves and their collected supplies. They set out without a goodbye.