"Not you too, Stan. We can't trust them and now you're saying that we can trust the most violent one out of them," Bebe says.

"I'm telling you. We don't have anything to lose if we listen to him," Stan says.

"I mean, I *gah* trust you. Bu-But are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes, I am. Tweek, lets just keep being civil as long as we can," Stan says.

"I guess. But they aren't being civil," Bebe says.

"Think about it," Stan says.

"I'm starting to think you're planning my death," Kenny says, with a smile on his face, as he stares at us.

"Is it already time?" Stan asks.

"Yeah," Craig says.

He looks conflicted as to what he is supposed to do here. To yell and point to gun or act as kind as possible.

"MOVE IT!" Wendy yells.

"Would you be so kind as to not yell? Some of us have really fucking sensitive ears. Did you know?" Craig asks.

"Fine. Two of them are coming with me. Leo, you're tested next, Token, you're coming with me. Kenny, you take whoever you want," Wendy says.

"Okay. Stan and who else," Kenny says.

Bebe nods and walks up to him, leaving me with Craig.

"Okay. Lets go then," he says, he is trying to sound as unkind as possible but he sounds guilty, sounding almost ridiculous.

Okay, Stan, you better be right or I'm dead, I needed to be civil. Let's be civil then. As civil as I can anyway.

"*Gah* Yes sir," I say.

He keeps his eyes on me, which I'm painfully aware of. Seriously. I'm not the only thing you can look at in the world, there are walls and other walls... and the ground! Well. He is a guard, so,  he has to... but still, it's fucking creepy.

"Get in. Will you?" He asks.

Okay, Tweek, be civil.

I get in, sitting in the corner furthest away from the door as soon as I can.

"I don't know anything more than you do, I promise," I say.

"I don't think you do. I'd be a complete idiot if I did," he says.

He sits against the door, keeping it closed with his back.

"But I just want to know, what happened to you," he says.

"T-to me?" I ask.

"You act like you're really panicked at all times, including now," he says.

"Y-you *gah* d-don't know me," I say.

"He says as he shows every sign of panic I've ever heard of," Craig says.

"It's a long story," I say.

"I've got time. And so do you. You can't really go anywhere before I let you," Craig says.

"I-It's really long," I say.

"Oh shit. I'm fine, even if it lasts like four hours. There is five of us, someone else can do my turn. I can make the time, trust me," Craig says.

"Well... it s-started from when I was born, when I came out as a mess. When I was about 5, everyone thought I might not have wings. It was probably some of the darkest times of my life, my family nearly abandoned me because well... as if having a baby that panics every other minute isn't hard enough, I might have been a wingless person-," I start.

"Why would that have been a bad thing?" Craig asks.

"I-If everyone thinks you are wingless, you will get abandoned. Along with the possibility your parents did something or you did something. Anyway. All the others saved me, especially Stan and Token. T-They helped me when I had nobody else and when L-Leo was abandoned by his parents, we all took care of him. When Leo got taken back, we were heartbroken, his parents were terrible to him-," I say.

"As much as that is interesting, I wanted to hear, why you're panicky," Craig says.

"*Gah* Yes, sorry. When we got to open our backs to let our wings out, mine didn't do anything. T-They stayed in and I had to make a bigger hole so someone's hands could fit to let them out. Cutting my back isn't painful but the humiliation of having someone else force your wings out while everyone looks on is a complete nightmare. And it hurt, oh how much did it hurt to have someone's hands pushed into your back to bring your wings out. Nobody would let it go. The adults never let it go because it was so new to them. I got told terrible things every single day. It hurts to this day. It didn't help I learned to fly when I was 14 and I'm still the worst at flying out of all of us. My wings were somehow damaged when I was born and it will never be the same as everyone else. I was born panicky but everything that has happened has made it so much worse," I say.

"How were they damaged?" Craig asks.

"I'd show you but I don't think i can trust you enough. But if you look close you'll see my other wing is bend. It can never go straight," I say.

"Your wing is basically my sexuality then," Craig mutters.

I laugh at his statement.

"It's so hard to fly when you lean on the wrong side and have to use your right wing to counter the left wing. But there is such a thing as too much right wing, in which I have to use left more but then there is a thing called too much left and it happens way too easily," I say.

"Do you know, how political that sounds?" Craig asks.

"Not really. Not involved in politics, I would have had the right to vote for a year, which means I have yet to vote for anyone," I say.

"Damn you're lucky. I was just 18 last voting," Craig says.

"Wait. How old are you?" I ask.

"Me? 20," Craig says.

"I'm 19," I say.