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Safety

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Alan hissed as he fell onto the floor hitting his head. He needs to make a tutorial, it's all he's useful for anymore. The urine from the bottles is all over the floor after he had a brake down and smashed everything in his cell. The dollar man was safe on his pillow, he crawled over to the bucket in the corner of his room and dipped his finger in it; he ran his finger down the wall and painted another blue chair, pain welled up in his chest.

"It's not fair." He whispered to himself as he wiped his finger off on his gown.

.:____________________:.

He shot up as he herd a loud thud.

From the room next to him he could make out a sentence, "Thank God for you." Alan tilted his head and quietly crawled over to the locked door, the harness that held him on the door last night was still on him with the clip it connects to still dangling on the door. Alan's mouth went dry as he herd lots of footsteps run in front of his door as it was slammed open. Alan skidded back with wide eyes as police filtered in the cell with guns waving, one looked down at him.

"Common." The officer held out a hand, childish curiosity nearly made Alan take it, but the men would hit him when he tried to get physical contact from them. Alan reached out but shook his head and snatched his hand back, tucking it beneath his other arm as if trying to hold it down. Alan couldn't see out of his left eye, it was swollen shut so badly that he couldn't open it without it hurting unbearably, so he had to turn his head to keep his eye on the others.

"Hey," Someone clapped, he turned and looked at them. She was dressed exactly like the others. "We need to get out of here." Alan felt his body involuntarily shaking harshly, his ripped gown was rubbing uncomfortably on his cuts. As one reached out, he quickly curled up, ignoring the searing pain, and covered his face with his hands and arms, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and clenched his jaw.