Feeling impotent, Baekhyun positioned himself at one grimy corner of the now well-acquainted cage. He was a false prisoner. Someone so irreproachable that stains of blood would never land on him. He etched the memories of his past to the back of his mind. Somehow, he felt as if it would be his only anchor into escapism. Surrendering himself to the fear of the outcome, his hands clasped together, praying. His mother was religious and had told him that the heavens above would always be his true witness... in times of great peaks or falls. 

An anonymous figure once again casted darkness over him as a raven cloth was poured over the whole cage; at the expanse of any light. 

He felt tears building up at the base of his eyes, along with a harsh sense of unjust. What had he done to be put in such a spot? Vexation enveloped him as he cursed his father who sold him, his mother who left him and his siblings who did nothing in return. He knew how egocentric he was being at the moment- but at such a dramatic, mentally-exhausting moment, he couldn't find the slightest hints of light at the other end of the tunnel.

He could feel the cage moving. And then hushed voices. Clown. Loud. So loud. Louder. Louder. So, so loud. 

By the time he knew it, bright spotlights blinded him. The curtain was lifted. The superficial sun made him feel sick. Oh so, so sick.

He saw them.

Grinning at him eagerly with hideous masks hiding each and every one of their identities. Bidders. He heard about them. They were going to buy him. The thought made him feel extremely nauseous. He was a property- he thought again. He was now an object for god's sake. 

And then it happened. 

Explosions. In colour. It was purple, he thought. And then smoke. Smoke. And