Chapter Two- Behind the Glass

Again, sorry for the late update ;(

Brad hated the place. He hated the narrow walls and thick glass, he hated the other pathetic prisoners, and he had even grown to tire of the food, limp and void of warmth or taste. More than anything else, he despised his captors. About once or twice a week, a man would pass his prison, and stop to examine him like some sort of pet, a smug smile stretched across his lips. Brad would bare his teeth at the man in warning, but this seemed to humour the man, and then he would walk away without another glance.

Something else irked Brad however. It was the fact that the man wore glasses, the kind that was as black as Brad's fingernails. He could not see the man's eyes, which gave Brad an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he was unable to look into the eyes of his antagonist. Brad was fascinated by eyes. They signified so many emotions- fear, anxiety, excitement. Plus eyes were quite crunchy, which served as a good appetizer. Nevertheless, they were valid reasons why the man upset him so much. He could not tell what the man was feeling when he looked at him, and this troubled him.

That day was different, though. When the man passed his prison, he stopped and touched the glass with a gloved hand, and he began to move his lips mutely, as Brad clawed at the glass for the man's fingers. Oh, to use his bones as a toothpick...

At that instant, Brad saw the man's eyes, for the first time. Not directly, as the man kept on his glasses, but glowing through the dark were blood red eyes. Inhuman. Piercing into his. This struck fear in Brad's slowly beating heart, as he fell backwards and crouched in a cobwebbed corner of the glass cage. He cowered, shielding his eyes from the crimson glare, letting out pained wails. Time crawled by, before he could look through the glass again. To his relief, the man had left, and that burning stare with him. Brad lolled weakly, his head tingling from the shock. He never wanted to see those eyes again.

Brad had no sense of time. Days either went too quickly or too slowly, depending on the quantity of flesh he was fed that day. There was no sun or moon in the skyless cell. There was only spiders, and cream tiles which smelled faintly of detergent. Brad felt constantly lost, in time, place, and everything else that was happening to him. More than anything, Brad wanted something to understand, a purpose to survive for. He found nothing. In depression, he leaned his limp body against the glass in boredom. It was times like these when he wished he had a cellmate to share his confusion, to grunt in agreement or roar at in rage. Someone to guffaw with when he woke up screaming from a bad dream. He would even share some of his meal with it, as long as it would do the same for him. Sadly, Brad was isolated in his solitary confinement, and the other creatures he had seen during his imprisonment were unworthy of his generosity or understanding. So Brad had remained alone for a long time, taunted by his captors and by his own painful dreams.

One morning, Brad awoke to an excited bustle amongst the prison. He peered out of his glass to make sense of what was going on when, to his surprise, it was the man in the glasses, an indignant expression on his face. Brad instinctively shrunk away from the figure- those eyes still sent a shiver down his spine- and to confirm his worst fears, he caught another glimpse of those dreaded red eyes. He backed away from the glass cautiously.

He dared to catch another glance and felt his jaw twitch when he realised that it was not the man's eyes this time, but the creature behind him. The creature was wearing a long, dark coat, and a face similar to that of a bird. However, her eyes were a glowing red, which Brad recognised were akin to the other man's eyes. When the creature turned her head in his direction, Brad's body froze. He felt his flesh stiffen and the hairs on his neck stand up. However, he experienced a strong wave of courage as he stood his ground unflinchingly glaring into those eyes.

He began to feel startled when she returned his gaze, boring her eyes into his, and she began to walk towards his confinement. Bile rose in his throat, but he merely swallowed, his feet twitching for retreat. As she approached the glass, he concentrated on his uneven, dirty toenails, refusing to meet the creature's eyes. He heard a soft thud against the glass and shut his eyes. He warily opened them to see a gloved hand resting on the glass. Bewildered, he looked at the creature, it's face still, releasing no obvious signs of emotion. There was something different about the creature however, and Brad felt his decaying palm touch the glass, its cold surface tingling his fingertips.

He began to contemplate trying to break the glass again at that moment when the man in the glasses returned, and swiftly, the bird creature turned sharply away from him and followed the man out of sight, into the darkness.

Brad felt his loneliness biting at his mind as he slumped down against the glass. The creature had troubled him. She was no undead monster, for Brad could sense that she was very much alive. She was no human either though, for those eyes...

Brad's musings were quickly interrupted when he noticed that food was arriving. He clambered up from the floor, his enthusiasm for his meals returning. Thinking too hard made him ravenous.

It was many days until Brad saw the bird lady again. She seemed to be able to walk freely around the establishment, which annoyed him. He wondered why she deserved special privileges over the other captives who were contained permanently. Just then, a thought struck him. What if she was one of them? He scowled at the thought. He didn't like the idea of her being part of the reason he was stuck in this prison. That would only mean that she was the enemy, and that would mean that Brad would have to hate her along with the rest of his current confinement.

So when she began to head in his general direction, he made sure to snarl ferociously at her, so that she knew of his contempt. This didn't faze her however, as she confidently stood before the glass.

Brad was disappointed. Most of the other people in the place stood back in fear whenever he made that threatening expression. Not her, though. She knelt beside the glass, her fingers stroking the glass.

Brad stared at her, confused. What did she want from him? She wasn't taunting, like the man in the dark glasses, but wasn't she his enemy? Brad felt his head throb in confusion, but shook off the protruding thoughts. He knelt to her level and merely stared at her crouched figure, wondering what kind of creature she was. His eyes travelled to her fingers on the glass, and backed away in shock. Something small and silver was clasped around her fingers. She was scratching at the glass with it. He felt a moment of euphoria. She was helping him to escape!

In that instant, Brad decided that the bird woman was not an enemy, but an ally. After all, she did not act like the other captors, and something about her was just...different from the rest.

To his disappointment, she stopped abruptly and looked at Brad expectedly. He groaned audibly. He thumped his hand on the glass to signal her to continue, but she shook her head, and pointed to the glass. He rolled his eyes, and looked at the area where she was gesturing to.

There were scratches on the surface. They seemed to shape something. Brad narrowed his eyes.

H-I.

He blinked. What did that mean? He looked at the creature, perplexed. The bird woman continued to point at the scratches, and then waved her other palm at him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Brad could remember watching people outside his cell doing something similar. They seemed to do it whenever they saw each other.

Hesitantly, Brad raised his hand and clumsily waved it, his joints creaking to the motion.

The bird woman promptly lifted herself from the floor, waving her hand once again, and turned away from him, as some people in lab coats were gesturing her to follow them. Sadly, Brad watched the shrinking figure, tracing the place where she had etched the shapes

That was his first night without the dreams.