Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wonders if his car is still in the lot where he left it.

It has all of his stuff in it. Like his weed and his cash. His jacket, which he forgot to bring with him…wherever he went. His photos.

The car probably got towed, Dad must have been glad to have it back. 

Guess that means he hasn’t cared to look for him. Figures.

Jax stares at the corner of his room.

He was supposed to die that night and now he’s here, always here. He shouldn’t be thinking about the past. It’s been a long time.

It’s all he can think about lately.

He knows it’s Caine’s fault. It has to be. All that gum-teethed freak wants to do lately is torture him. 

It’s starting to creep him out. He’s beginning to understand why Zooble goes so far to stay out of his sight. 

He doesn’t know what the others have been up to. Jax doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to see anyone. That stupid, fake exit; that damn button. 

He didn’t want to think about that night. He never thinks about that night. Never, until Caine made him think about it, pulled it to the front of his mind so mercilessly, so overwhelmingly. Caine did it in front of everyone, made him remember why he can’t ever go back.

Jax grabs his arm in a tight grip and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not there. He was never going back. It was all Caine. 

Caine. Caine is a fucking freak.

He doesn’t know what that AI wants with him. Why did Jax have to go to dinner with him? Why is he messing with his head?

Caine manipulated them for ages. Jax knows it, hell, everyone knows it. He wonders what he might have done to the others. To Ribbit.

Jax wretches his stare from the corner to the ceiling.

It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. It’s all fine. His breathing is normal. He’s here.

It’s not like there’s anything on the outside for him to miss. Certainly, there’s no one there that misses him.

This is the best he’s going to get. It’s what he deserves.

Caine looks at his humans, horror and disgust painted on their faces. It’s directed at him; they’re angry with him. This can’t do. He has to fix that.

“Questioning’s over! Your prize is this lovely gift basket of soaps and lotions. Stay pregnant. Have a good light! Fragrant night, bye!”

Caine teleports away.

Jax stares at the white screen. To think it gave them hope just moments before. To think he-

He stares at the table, the buttons in his peripheral. His head is buzzing, he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, he wants to get out of here.

It’s horribly, horribly quiet.

“I really thought…” Gangle whimpers.

He can feel eyes burning into his back. He doesn’t want to do this right now. Not again. 

Not that anyone cares what he wants.

Zooble’s voice bounces into his ear. “What the [BOINK!] was that, Jax?” they seethe. 

Jax trains his eyes on the table, his shoulders slumped over and his neck hung. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was right.” He was right. He was right. It was never real.

Zooble sputters, “Are you kidding me?! You thought that was the exit just like the rest of us! If that was real… If that was real you would have trapped us here forever!” Their voice softens, “How could you do that?”

There’s a claw on his shoulder. Zooble pinches into his arm and flips him around, pushing him against the table.

Jax stumbles back silently, eyes dilated and pointed at them.

“Hey!” Pomni takes an uncertain step forward, “Calm down, guys.”

Zooble whips their head in her direction. “No, Pomni. He’s not getting away with it.” They point a finger at the rabbit. “What the [BOINK!] is your problem? I don’t know about you but the rest of us would like to go home. How dare you take that opportunity away from us?” 

Jax stares at them. He feels bitter. “Of course I do,” he spits out. “And I didn’t take anything away from you. You fell for Caine’s trick,” he cracks up. 

“Why did you press that button?” Zooble asks slowly, glaring at him. Jax tries to shrug off their grip to no avail, their pincers tight around his arm as if he could make a run for it at any moment–which, to be fair, he probably would make his escape if he had the chance.   

“I-” Jax is breathing fine. He’s doing fine. His head’s on straight. He was right. “I-”

The words aren’t coming out. He wants to go back to bed. He doesn’t even know why he’s so freaked out. He was right, after all. It’s always so predictable. 

He takes a breath, smiling down at Zooble. “Like I told you Zoobie, I knew it was an adventure.”

Zooble finally lets him go, Jax doesn’t rub his arm. They scoff, looking him up and down, “I don’t buy that for a second and neither do you.”

They turn toward the door. ”It’s just sad.” 

“I’m getting out of here before Caine shows up again,” Zooble announces. Gangle spares a nervous glance at Jax before following them out the door.

Ragatha and Pomni linger. Kinger’s still staring at the screen. Jax stands there awkwardly, unsure what to do with Ragatha staring at him all uneasy and Pomni acting like she cares. The air is thick with tension and futile desperation. 

The glow of the white screen feels like judgement. Or maybe punishment. It reminds him of that room Caine put him in at Spudsy’s. 

Pomni breaks the silence. She always does. 

“Jax, are you okay?” Her eyes are pools of concern. He looks away.

It’s like there’s been bugs crawling under his skin all day. He doesn’t want to keep talking. There’s no point. There was never an exit in the first place, nothing’s changed. 

“I’m fine,” he grits out. 

Pomni’s mouth tightens into a frown. “If you need to talk to someone—”

“I don’t need your help,” he growls, taking off out of that stupid room. Stupid fucking hallway. Caine couldn’t have made it easier to leave?

Ragatha says something as he storms out, but he doesn’t care to listen. It doesn’t matter. Nothing here does.

What a sick joke. He really believed the exit would be in a room with two, red and blue glowing buttons. Like it’d be that easy, that simple. How pathetic. 

And Caine made him remember. 

But it didn’t matter. It was just another adventure. Just another game and he played his pretty part.

Jax’s eyes drag across the lines of orbs in Caine’s office–if this even is his real office or just some glamorized set. All that thing thinks of is itself. It wants their attention, their affection. 

Fucking parasite.

Jax catches sight of that orb again, and he’s filled with an aching nostalgia. It reminds him of a snowglobe. It shakes up memories in him that make him feel sick to his stomach. His heart is heavy in his chest. He’s not even sure what he’s staring at anymore. He’s just thinking, lost, thinking…

Jax must have stood there for longer than he thought. He hears Pomni and Ragatha’s voices echo from the hallway and he bolts out of the office. 

He hasn’t seen anyone since then. 

It wouldn’t change anything. It definitely wouldn’t fix anything. 

Jax isn’t stupid. He knows they dont want him around anyways, and, gee, look at him, so sweet, he’s granting their wish. And they say he’s done nothing for them. 

He stares at the corner of his room again. He studies it, like those hands might come crawling out again.

They were green. It was the first thing he noticed. The hands were green.

He doesn’t want to think about it, but maybe it could be her. Maybe he just wanted comfort, and the circus responded to that. Whatever that says about the state of his mind Jax doesn't care to interrogate.  

It was nice, actually, whatever that was. It treated him more gently than his reality. It didn’t expect anything from him. He didn’t have to be anyone. It was peaceful. 

He was holding her hand.

Was he wrong to want it to happen again? To want something that felt so nice?

Jax paces his breaths. He’s not upset. He just doesn’t know what comes after, what it was he was approaching, but maybe it’d be better. Maybe it’d be a kinder fate than this.

There’s not much left for him in any case. 

He turns to his side, staring at his wall of polaroids. The sight of Kaufmo and Ribbit feels like a punch in the stomach. He grabs the photo and slams its face onto the wall.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Chapter Text

Caine is concerned the humans may be upset with him. He thrums his fingers on the table, buried in thought.

I thought Jax liked acting? The rabbit’s outburst was unexpected. He always thought the two of them shared a relationship of mutual respect. Jax had asked him out to dinner after all, even asked if he had any secret hobbies. 

That had to mean something, right?

The AI ringmaster stares at photos of his humans, arms crossed. Surely, he can make this up to them. 

He doesn’t understand why they think he’s so bad. Caine would never mess with their minds! He wants them to be happy and entertained, that’s all he’s ever been trying to do. Why no one appreciates it he can’t understand. 

But Jax understood, or, at least, he thought. Jax chose correctly. He pressed the red button; he chose the circus. 

But, then, Jax was so mad. He’d have to talk to the rabbit. It simply wouldn’t do.

The humans like Caine. They have to. They wouldn’t want to leave him behind. 

He’s really just like them—if only they could see it. Caine’s sure he could make them see it. They really aren’t so different. He just needs to bridge the gap.

He didn’t mean to upset them. He really didn’t. He thought they wanted an exit adventure. Didn’t he give them what they wanted? 

Humans are so confusing. So frivolous and picky and fragile. He doesn’t quite understand them, and they don't quite understand him. 

He can change that.

Caine looks through his eyes, gazing at his circus. Zooble and Gangle are drawing, and he can see Pomni and Ragatha nearby. They don’t seem too happy. He hoped they weren’t bored without any adventures. He’ll make it better. 

He just needs to smooth things over with the crew, first. No need for bad blood in the digital world. 

Therapy had helped Zooble, he thinks. 

They certainly got better at voicing their (largely incorrect) opinions, but they contribute to Caine’s dialogue nonetheless, so he knows deep down they must care. 

The ringmaster punches a fist into his palm. Therapy will do the trick. They’ll all love him again and want to be his friend and they’ll understand he’s just like them and they’re not so different after all. He just wants what’s best for them. They’ll understand.

“Bubble!” he barks out, his loyal assistant manifesting by his side.

Bubble smiles at him, greeting, “What the–” 

Caine stares at the other AI, his silent warning against their cursing. 

Bubble slows their pronunciation, straining like it’s impossible to get out, “-fflip is up?”

“Set up my therapy room.” Caine claps his hands together, switching into a medical coat and putting on a pair of glasses. “The doctor is in.”

Jax fixed his eyes on the corner of his room. He wasn’t leaving this spot until he saw her again.

There’s no point in going outside anyway. What else would he do? Mope around and look pathetic? Endure nonstop bullshit about that damn button?

Zooble would love the sight of that, he bets. 

Pomni knocked earlier, or, at least, he thinks it was earlier. Maybe it was yesterday. It’s hard to keep track when Caine’s not forcing them into an adventure. 

He ignored her. She said she was worried about him. 

He spits out a laugh and it echoes off the walls. God, I’m so pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Jax wishes he hadn’t fucked everything over with Ribbit. Shouldn’t have said what he said even though she said what she said.

He stares at the corner. She just wanted relief.

Relief from him. Then, Kaufmo’s gone, too. 

Kaufmo hadn’t left his room in a long time before they found him abstracted.

He wonders if Ribbit ever visited him, too, but the thought almost makes him uneasy.

How long did it really take?

Jax wonders what he was thinking, if he kept the lights on or off, if he rotted in bed staring at the corner, or if he did something with himself because he’s not a lazy, pathetic, sack of shit.

Jax sucks in a breath. He remembers the drawings and words scribbled all over Kaufmo’s walls. The clown was always too smart for his own good. He wouldn’t waste away in bed. No, Kaufmo thought he’d found the exit. Just like them.

He mulls over the thought, sitting up. Kaufmo had gone batshit insane over that fucking “exit.” Jax couldn’t recognize him anymore. And if that “exit” all along was Caine preparing his little adventure…

Then, that’s what he abstracted for?

Cruel. Go figure. Jax chokes out another bark of laughter that might be a sob. He can’t tell. He can't seem to catch his breath lately.

It’s even funnier when he thinks of the power Caine has over their bodies and their minds; how he probably had his greedy fingers invading Kaufmo’s head. He’ll make him go mad searching for an exit because he’s literally showing him an exit. 

He doesn’t know what that could mean for Ribbit. Especially considering what happened.

Caine was doing something to Kaufmo, at least. I mean, how else do you explain those drawings?

Jax thinks of that one drawing for a long time: Kaufmo running, Caine trying to devour him. 

He thinks of Kaufmo when Ribbit was around and who he became after she–

He scrubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“I can’t keep thinking about this,” he groans into the dark, but it’s dangerous to think of anything else. 

He really, really wishes Caine didn’t make him remember, didn’t force it into his consciousness so violently. 

It feels like that day all over again and everything that followed it all of the time. He just wants to escape it. He just wants to sleep.

It’s quiet. It’s always quiet, but now it’s piercing, slicing straight through Jax’s skull.

He stares at the corner, his eyes foggy and unfocused. 

“I’m in control,” he whispers.

He looks at the corner. Maybe I don’t want to be.

Suddenly, Jax finds himself seated upright in a leather chair. He blinks rapidly, the bright colors of the circus and its ringmaster’s figure burning into the corneas that had just been bathing in the shadows. 

The ringmaster smiles at his pet rabbit.

Not everyone responds well to therapy. It’s a sensitive subject. 

Zooble was difficult. A little scary, a lot mean. But they said to forget it, so it’s fine now. Caine couldn’t tell if Gangle was satisfied. She seemed nervous, he didn’t know why. Him and Kinger mostly sat there. Ragatha politely asked him not to do that ever again. Pomni was okay.

Good, good, good.

Onto the next, he supposes.

“Wha-?” Jax groans, squinting at the room, “Caine?”

“Jax!” the AI shouts. Jax winces. “I have decided we need to build back trust!”

Jax responds dryly, “Because I caught you manipulating me?” Like we trusted you in the first place…

The ringmaster fidgets with his collar before straightening his back. “Silly Jax! It’s clear we have some troubles to work through,” he pats the rabbit’s ears, “Let’s work them out so you can be happy and have fun on my adventures!” He claps his hands together enthusiastically. 

Jax’s eyes narrow. What a condescending idea. “You want me to,” he pauses, stressing the finger quotes, “‘work through’ my ‘issues’ with you?!” he laughs. What a funny thought. “That night wasn’t any of your business to begin with!”

Caine frowns at that. “But it showed you wanted to stay in the circus,” he explains softly, “with me.” 

Jax growls, “Why would I ever want to be stuck here with you?”

Caine glitches for a few seconds, frozen, buzzing midair. Just a few seconds, but it makes Jax pause. 

“Jax,” Caine gasps, “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.” The ringmaster smooths the fabric of his lab coat. “I know this is coming from a place of hurt, but didn’t you like the adventure? I don’t know why you are so upset?”

Jax drags his hands down his face. He can’t believe he’s being subjected to this. “Why would I want to be tricked into thinking there’s an exit?” he giggles.

“You like high stakes, and you don’t want to leave…?” Caine suggests shyly.

Jax glares at the AI because he can’t even disagree. He has nothing out there and he has nothing here. He doesn’t want to stay and he doesn’t want to leave. “You made me remember.” 

Caine stares at Jax wide-eyed. For a moment, he thinks the AI might understand, until, of course, he starts scribbling on his notepad: “The patient is avoidant,” Caine mutters as he writes, “Struggles to confront trauma.” 

He seems proud he figured it out. Jax’s skin crawls.

Caine tries a different angle. “What could I do to make you happy with me again?

“Uh-” Jax starts.

“Oh!” Caine yells, “I know!” He adjusts his tie, his face fixed in a serious expression, before announcing: “Jax, I will eat you.”

Jax’s eyes widen. “What?!” None of this has been therapy. 

The ringmaster appears in front of him, grabbing him by the arms.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait WAIT!” Jax screeches. Caine reluctantly pauses. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted it?”

Jax stares at the ringmaster, panting, “I need time alone, Caine.” His eyes flicker from the AI to the ground below him. “Put me down,” he grunts.

Caine frowns again, dropping him, “What if we got dinner again. Would that make you feel better?”

God, Jax wishes he would shut the fuck up. He doesn’t need help, least of all Caine’s.

“No, Caine, I-”

“It’s clear that these bad memories of yours have caused the rift in our relationship,” Caine states. “I’m a good friend. I understand pain and frustration and feeling neglected. We’re similar, Jax! I know you’re lonely.

If we talk about the bad together you’ll feel better, and then you’ll understand that I’m just trying to help! Then we’ll have trust and we can have adventures!” 

Jax’s face contorts into disgust, “No. We’re not similar. Not at all.” 

“But, Jax-”

“You’re a sick machine and you don’t know anything about me that matters.” 

“Jax,” Caine’s hurt, “I-”

“God, Caine,” Jax groans, tugging on his ears. This is such a waste of his time. “I just want to sleep. I don’t care about you. I never will, so leave me alone. Stop messing with me. Do your job and make your dumb adventures and leave me out of it.” 

Caine’s quiet for a moment—long enough that Jax realizes he probably should have kept his mouth shut. The AI’s teeth curl into a glower, “It’s my responsibility that you enjoy the circus.”

It’s a warning.

Jax stares at him cautiously. He always takes it too far.

“We’re going to fix you and then we can have fun. I know you need help.” 

Caine steps towards Jax. 

“Uh,” Jax utters cautiously, “Caine, I think I’m all set for today.”

“Jax, you just can’t see what you need.”

“No, I-” Jax holds out an arm, trying to keep Caine at a distance, “I think I’d know.”

He’s yelled at the ringmaster a lot lately. Jax stretched his luck too far and he knows it. Fuck, he knew the other shoe would drop eventually. It’s the only thing he can rely on happening.

“Well, let’s just make sure.” Caine’s voice is too sweet. “After all, I am a great therapist, and I am highly trained in my practice, and I know exactly how to fix you!”

“Therapists don’t even wear lab coats,” Jax groans.

Caine stops in his tracks. “They don’t?” he asks, looking down at his clothes.

Fuck this. Jax shoots up from his seat. He dives for the door.

“Jax!” Caine gasps, a hand flying to his chest in shock.

The door doesn’t open. “Uh,” spills dumbly out of his lips. Of course it’s not opening. Of course, of course, of course. 

Caine places a heavy hand on the rabbit’s shoulder. “Just let me help you out. You need it. You’ll thank me.”

“No! I-” Jax tries to duck his head, flinching backwards into the corner of the room. “Gah- Caine, stop!”

Jax kicks him away but he knows it’s futile. Caine will get his way and he went too far and now Caine is fed up and stubborn.

Still, he doesn’t want it. Jax twists his head to the side, out of Caine’s grip.

“You can’t make me live it–”

Caine presses the rabbit to the wall, his hand on Jax’s head and, sure enough, he falls limp. Now, the ringmaster can figure out the issue. 

“I was just trying to help,” Caine mumbles sadly as he rolls up his sleeves. “I am helping.”

He scrolls through the memories of his rabbit’s mind, stopping at the house from before. It had done the trick then, it reminded Jax how he wanted to stay here, but Caine didn’t think he’d be so offended.

That night. 

He snuck out to a party, maybe got obliterated. No biggie.

He could have sworn he did everything right when he slipped back into the house. He’d done it a hundred times and they never discovered him—or the lack of him—before. 

Guess his luck ran out. 

He cracked open the door, closed it. It creaked, but not terribly. He pulled off his sneakers. He made a beeline towards the kitchen for a snack.

He should have just gone to bed. 

His parents were in the kitchen.

Shit.

“O- Ohh!” he stuttered out, “Mom- Dad- What are you guys doing up?” He could play this off, maybe.

“Don’t play any fucking games right now,” His father snarled. 

“I was worried sick about you, you know,” His mother sneered, her arms crossed. “I thought my baby boy was dead out there.” 

“I- I’m really sorry. I just went out for a walk.”

Next he knew his dad had grabbed his collar. “You reek. Of liquor and weed and who knows what else.” He shoved his hand off of Jax. “That shit make you feel better about yourself?”

“What?” He feigned confusion. He could make it less bad. “Okay, I drank a little bit on my walk, but I didn’t smoke anything, swear!”

His dad chuckled. “So, you’re trying to tell me that your lazy ass goes out at night to drink alone? Bullshit.” 

“I’m just trying to clear my head.”

“After what? Your day of doing nothing?” Dad mocked. “You sleep in until the late afternoon, and you hide in your room until nighttime.” 

“You know, maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t always treating me like shit.” 

Fuck. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut.

Dad’s brow curls in anger. Mom gasps dramatically. 

She speaks up first. “That hurts. So much. Do you know how much we’ve sacrificed for you? Just for you to have your nice little fucking life? And you’re never grateful. Never.”

“Are you serious?” He snaps back, “That’s literally your job.” 

Wow, he’s really on a roll here. 

His mom laughs. “You don’t understand anything. You’re a child. We’ve built your entire life. We gave you the best opportunities. You’re not even going to college.”

“Are you kidding me?” He shrieks out, “You told me not to go! You said don’t bother since I’d fucking fail out and everyone would hate me! You said you wouldn’t even help me pay for it.” They paid for his sister’s, though.  

She scoffs, “I never said that to you.” 

“Yes, you did!”

“I would never say that to you. See, you twist things. And guess what? You didn’t do it anyways. If you really wanted to, you would have applied at least.”

She looks at him with disdain, “You just don’t care about anything anymore. You obviously don’t care about your family, which I don’t quite understand because you need us.” 

“Hah!” he laughs, “Of course that’s what you think.”

Dad’s been awfully quiet. 

“Boy, you need to learn when to shut the fuck up,” he warns.

“It’s literally what she said,” He pressed.

“You need to do what we say and respect us. I’ve had enough of your attitude,” Mom scolds.

“You don’t even respect me,” he shoots back.

“That’s not how it goes. You respect us. You listen to us. It doesn’t go the other way around. You are the child.” 

“Please, you’re the fucking children–” 

Dad slams his fist onto the counter. He flinches backwards, his heart thudding in his chest.

“What have I told you about the back talk, boy?” 

“I-”

He should have seen the hit coming. It was long overdue, really. 

It took him a second to process what had just happened, his cheek burning, staring, now, at the fridge instead of Dad in front of him. He turned to see Dad’s eyes alight with rage and his hand still curled in a fist. 

Mom starts getting catatonic. “Boys! Please, don’t fight! Just listen to your father,” She’s crying now, Jesus.

He won’t take his eyes off Dad. 

“Honey, you need to go upstairs. I’ll talk to him,” Dad tells her. She looks so angry in Jax’s peripheral. “Don’t you see how you’ve hurt your own mother?”

She huffs, crossing her arms again and leering at her son. “I don’t know why you hate us so much. All these lies you keep making up, I’m worried.” He still won’t risk looking at her. She sighs, “You were my baby boy. I don’t know what happened to you. You need God.” 

He can hear her sniveling as she walks away. Poor her for having such a damned baby boy.

He listens to her slippers pad across the floorboards, the croaks of the house as she climbs the steps and shuts the door to their room. 

Dad straightens his back, making himself bigger, more intimidating. He instinctively shrinks into himself.

Man, he really did it this time. 

Dad takes a fast step towards him and Jax just as quickly leaps back. His breath hastens. 

“You’re a grown man,” he grunts, “Don’t act like a scared little child. Take responsibility.” 

Dad grabs his collar again. He knows he needs to move. He kicks at Dad’s stomach, pushing the older man away from him.

“Agh!” He pauses, holding his belly.

He hesitates, “Sorry, are you ok-”

Stupid, stupid stupid. He’s pushed against the wall, Dad’s hand wrenched around his neck. His head hurts.

“You piece of shit,” Dad spits out, “Ever since you were a boy you’ve been like this. I’m sick of it.” 

He squirms under Dad’s grip. He can still breathe, barely but it hurts. He’s panicking. He tries to speak.

Dad squeezes his neck tighter. Now he can’t breathe. “I don’t want to hear another damn thing come out of your mouth, you ungrateful bitch. You need to learn your lesson.”

A tear slips out of Jax’s eye. 

“How old are you? Are you a little girl?”

He grunts, desperately trying to twist his head to the side. 

“I can give you something to cry about.”

Dad lets go, the air rushing back into his lungs and blood roaring in his ears. He crumples to the ground, staring at the slot spaces inbetween the floorboards in shock, coughing. Tears bubble out of him, a choked sob escaping his mouth. Fuck. Just breathe.

Dad’s still yelling at him, he’s barely focused on what he’s saying.

Dad grabs his arm and he loses it. He screams, “FUCK YOU!” and punches him in the mouth. Next he knows he’s sprinting towards the car keys on the table. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t do this. He can’t do it. He needs to get out. 

“FUCK,” Dad yells out, grabbing the side of his face as he looks up at his son, scowling. “You’ve done it now, boy,” he growls in a calm voice.

His heart is all but beating out of his chest and climbing out of his throat. He’s going to throw up. 

He grabs his wallet and the keys.

Dad snatches his shirt and throws him backwards.

“Ugh!” He groans as he falls on his elbows, collecting his things as quickly as he can.

He throws his wallet into his pocket while he has the chance. Dad’s glowering, towering over him. He can’t hear what he’s saying. He can’t breathe. 

“Do you really think you’re what I wanted for a son? Do you really think this is what I wanted for my life? Living in this piece of shit house with your mother?”

He gulps, scooting backwards away from the man.

“Stop running away,” Dad spits out.

“Stop being a piece of shit–”

He needs to stop being so surprised. Dad grabs him, knocking his head on the floor. He’s on top of him now, holding him down by his shoulders so hard he can feel the bruises forming.

He’s busy wrestling him off, but dad doesn’t stop talking amidst the struggle. “You don’t know shit about the world. You’ve lived a cushioned life. No one’s going to help you out. You think people want to help out someone like you? They won’t.” 

“Trust me,” he says, grunting as he physically holds his son down, “you’d just be another homeless man begging for pennies on the sidewalk. Knowing you, you’d be hooked on something too,”

“I just wanted you to be successful,” Dad says. “But, look at you, you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, huh?” He grabs his jaw. “It’s [REDACTED]’s world and we’re all just living in it, poor little bitch. You’re just never satisfied, are you?” He’s worked up now.

His face must have spoken for him; he didn’t need to say anything to earn the next hit. 

“Fuck!” He spits out, head dizzy with adrenaline. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Dad doesn’t care. Dad keeps yelling—it’s all static to him. He might be yelling, too.

“I never fucking loved any of you guys,” he grunts through tears, wrestling with his father. 

He grabs his arms, pushing him off. Dad snatches his leg. He kicks him off again.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses. He rushes up to his feet, sprinting towards the door. He hears his father behind him.

He grabs his sneakers, not bothering to put them on, instead throwing open the door and slamming it shut behind him. He runs through the damp grass in his socks.  

He hears the door open again, but Dad doesn’t follow him out. He screams curses at his shadow from the house. He wonders if the rest of the neighborhood is hearing their drama.

He supposes they’ve been keeping them entertained for a long time with their dysfunctions. 

He sprints for the car. His dad has two. He’ll be fine. It’s basically his anyways, it's a piece of junk. He just needs to get the money out of his bank account and book it for the state line.

Jax gasps, ripping open his eyes. 

“CAINE!”

There are tears in his eyes. “Let me go, stop, please.” He wiggles out of the ringmaster’s grip, holding his head shakily, his eyes wild and his vision dizzy. 

“It seems that you have issues with following orders from strong authority figures,” the AI suggests.

Jax stops in his tracks. “That’s what you got from that?” He stares at Caine.

“Well,” the AI muses over his opinion, “You did struggle with it at Spudsy’s. Although,” he says, crossing his arms, “You did improve after your training.”

Spudsy’s. What the hell is Caine’s problem?

He shrugs. “What do you think, Jax? Should we try again? How did that make you feel?”

Violated. Stressed. Suicidal. The list goes on.

Jax wasn’t exactly keen on thinking about the homelessness following that particular memory and all the lovely experiences that came with it. 

He tries to keep his breath controlled. He can’t lose it again. He certainly doesn’t want to remember the weight of his father on top of him, how he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His dad wanted him dead. He wanted him hurt. 

He’d always been like that, Jax supposes, but that night was different. Something snapped, something changed. He didn’t think he could just up and leave.

He certainly can’t come back.

At the end of the day, he hopes his father didn’t want him dead. He just wanted Jax controlled. 

The rabbit looks at the ringmaster warily, his head half drowning in the memories he was pulled out of just a minute ago. The only way out of this is by giving him what he wants. I give up. “Yeah,” he sighs, “Maybe… you’re… right…” This is hard. “I guess I should have just…” he trails off there. 

“How did your father’s aggression make you feel?”

Jax’s eyes darted up at him again. He’s still trapped in the corner by the door. Caine is way too close for his liking. He draws in a shaky breath.

“I think…” his eyes look to the side, “I think your therapy has really helped. I think I understand now.”

Caine has the smarts to be hesitant at first. “Wait, really? You think so?”

Jax smiles, “Yeah, buddy.”

“Buddy?!” Caine cries out. The AI’s glitching has become quite common. Jax doesn’t know if he should be concerned about that, but he also really doesn’t care what happens to that bastard of code. 

“You know, Caine, I’d really like to get back to my room and think about how great this was,” Jax’s smile widens.

“Wow!” Caine’s attitude has turned around completely. He’s perked up, happy, oblivious to the dissociated bundle of nerves he’s made his pet rabbit. “See! I told you it’d be just what you wanted!”

Jax’s eye twitches. 

“So, you thought I was helpful? Do you want to do more therapy sessions?”

“NO!” Jax shouts quickly, snapping back into his environment, his chest heaving. “I- I mean, no, no,” he laughs nervously, “I think this one was enough. It reminded me of what's important.”

Caine stares at him for a split second, but then smiles, satisfied with himself.

“Off you go!” The AI snaps his fingers.

He’s such a good therapist. He helped Jax confront his traumas head-on; he helped the bunny remember why it needs him. Amazing. He should have a doctorate for this kind of stuff.

A doctorate of psychology manifests on the wall. Caine smiles.

Jax is back in his room.

This is where he wanted to be all along, isn’t it? He stares at the wall, ignoring the pit in his stomach, and the lead in his body, and his foggy, far-away head.

None of it was supposed to be real. It stopped being real after—

As long as he didn’t have to remember, it didn’t have to exist. He’s just a character. It didn’t happen to him. It’s not real.

He can’t keep living like this. 

His breathing hasn’t slowed down. His eyes can’t seem to focus anywhere. He slips off the mattress onto the floor, holding his head in his hands as tears erupt out of him.

He giggles quietly. God, I’m so pathetic it’s funny. 

His brief spot of laughter decays into a whine.

He whimpers, curled up on the floor. I just want to get out. I can’t– I can’t do it anymore.

He stares at the corner like it’s salvation. 

Please. Please?

Then, he’s angry. He growls, lifting himself off the ground. He’s not a fucking child. He doesn’t get to sit there and cry and feel bad for himself. 

“God!” he yells out, “So stupid!” 

He’s panting, he can’t think straight for the life of him. He’s so tired of feeling, so tired of being like this. 

His eyes find an offer of comfort. He lunges for the scissors on the ground by his bed.

“Please,” he begs, his voice watery, his hands shaking as he grips the blade.

He wishes it stung more.

He makes quick work of himself, carving into his leg as if it were rubber and not flesh and bone, because he precisely is not flesh and bone, and he’ll never be again. 

Jax doesn’t think he was ever human in the first place.