Smiling Critters: A Turn To The Story.

At My Lowest Point.

(💡)

I don't know what went into my body when it happened. I don't know what made me attack Picky in such a way. I suppose there were numerous factors.
I was tired, terrified, in pain from a brief torture, I was in a bad mood with everyone, I was in a state where I preferred not to be talked to... so when Picky went to the opposite side, it felt, with all due respect, like a kick in the balls.
My body, rather than my mind, asked me to return the rage, but that damn bull threw me to the ground, leaving me unconscious. Normally, that wouldn't knock me out, but I was already kind of weak from before.
I thought that this shit, this pain and all my vain effort in helping others would end there, with just a blow to the head; but it was not like that.

I woke up after a while in a dark room, through which no light came in and which also had no light sources.
I tried to stretch out, but I hit my head on...the ceiling, I guess? I didn't know for sure what was the ceiling, where I had hit myself in the forehead or where the top of my head collided.
I also bumped my elbows accidentally into the side walls.
It was difficult for me to process it due to fatigue, but I soon confirmed through knocks that I was not in a normal room; I was locked in a custom-made box, an airtight coffin with barely any room to move.
My first reaction was going to be panic. I could have punched the walls, screamed for help, or any of those things, but if I do that, all I do is lose oxygen and energy. And that's the last thing I have to lose.

And not because I want to leave, because if they wanted to fulfill my proposal to make me die, they achieved it; I guess my brain, at the moment, doesn't want to die.
So doing some calculations, considering the oxygen a person consumes and the volume of this coffin...

...okay, I would have an hour or so.

...But what can I do in an hour until I die?

Maybe I can sleep, or something. Sleeping puts the body in a state of relaxation that slows down vital functions, including breathing.
It is possible that I breathe less. I will have more reserve in that case.

So I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
But I started to see things. I guess it was dreams.

I saw myself in PlayCare, totally bright and clean, with children running around everywhere.
And among all that tumult of children and laughter, I heard a voice.

KickinChicken: Hey kids, I'm KickinChicken! Who wants to hang out today?

A cheer of children's voices began, and some Smiling Critter-from the voice I deduced it was DogDay-was also cheering him on.
I tried to turn my head, but when I thought I saw Kickin, a knock woke me up.

I had hit myself in the head again. And that woke me up.
I became frustrated with having so little space and wished I had been as short as the other Critters, who, inexplicably, had grown little in height.
And to vent, I punched the lid and elbowed the adjacent wall.
This made me cry. I let the tears fall, but I didn't sob. I didn't make a sound.

I think that sadness and loneliness made me remember things that I thought I had forgotten due to all the stress and strain of this adventure, or that's what the rest of us call what we are experiencing.
I preferred to have forgotten them. But they came to mind accompanied by a headache.

One of those things was the Hour of Joy.
It was somewhat overwhelming and horrible, when I suffered the first nervous breakdown of my life.
I found myself alone at school, by the time that thing started. I was with the teachers and with a pair of adults when the alarm began. The children were not there, luckily. An adult entered a room and the eight teachers entered with him.
I heard screams. Screams of pain and terror.
I ran away. I didn't find children. I only saw death, blood everywhere.
And then, I saw DogDay go deeper into PlayCare, instead of running away with the others, who were heading to the cable car.