[Preamble]
A little something devoted to the Glass House's emotional punching bag, Michael Glass.
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Michael Glass was an individual about whom few tried to understand. He was an individual who accepted others and who was accepted by others. Soft-spoken but strong, he gave off an aura similar to that of a well-mannered cat – likeable enough but not really an object of attention. In more ways than one, he seemed to fit his house more than he fit the people with whom he lived.
Still, Michael cared. Although so resolutely one with the house, he could not stay in any longer. To see his friends leave and hurt out there without him—he could not take it any longer.
Michael made a choice.
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Michael Glass was not stupid.
Michael Glass understood that the vamps were bad. In fact, he understood that the vamps were very bad. Mostly.
Michael Glass also understood that some were okay. He saw his grandfather, Sam Glass, and saw a little bit of himself. Like him, Sam was a peripheral character; one rarely sought out but one who gave unconditionally.
A vamp who was somewhat okay. Admirable, even.
Shane Collins was stupid. Michael Glass also understood that. Okay, maybe stupid isn't the most fitting word, but in short, Shane Collins was close-minded. Shane Collins understood that the vamps were bad, he understood that the vamps were very bad, and that was the end of that discussion.
Perhaps obstinate is a better choice of word.
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The Glass House was also obstinate. The house itself, that is to say (not just the people in it—although, to be fair, the four of them each held the trait to a considerable degree).
When the Glass House almost lost its human version of a house-cat two years ago, it did all it could to hold on. Since then, Michael Glass was held captive; the infinite infirm.
But Michael Glass is not one to be caged in.