I glance up as the madman sips his coffee and then open it to read.

‘Hi there.’ He texts back.

I panic trying to think about anything to say, finally caving and typing, ‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Guess?’ He sends a picture of his closet mostly greens and greenish blues.

‘Orange?’ I tease and he sends a tongue out pick. I flush because it’s pierced there too. I shake my head as it 

starts wandering and wondering what else is pierced. 

‘Is orange your favorite color?’ I swear I can hear the suave and saucy attitude in his text.

‘Nah I prefer neutral colors.’

‘I think it looks cute on you.’ He sends a pic of him laying on his ruffled bed and then adds, ‘Mmm, actually maybe orange is starting to grow on me.’ 

He’s so good at this I think flustered and try to think of something that’s not too cringe. Thankfully he texts first. 

‘Are you in school?’

‘Was before we moved.’ I pause and doubt I’ll be allowed to go to school ever again. Or get a job, at least until I turned eighteen but that’d be hard without a highschool education. 

My uncle opens the door. I ask him, “What are we gonna do once we find a new place to stay…or until then, about school?” I ask as he sits down turning on the car.

“I will make sure you keep living as before.” He says gruffly. Surprising me because usually he’s pretty monotone. “That coffee would have served better being poured out then drunk.”

He gets back on the road. I note he always drives in complete silence unless I initiate music. My phone goes off and he sends yet another pic of himself and some others looking like they’re having fun.  

‘Jealous, most of us are drop outs and disappointments.’

‘Making more money than me.’ I say and then add, ‘And you’ve got friends so that's two to one.’

‘Thanks most of my money goes to… you know what, never mind that. You an introvert?’ He asks.

‘No, I'm the life of the party.’ I add ‘lol’ and then, ‘It’s just that I don’t often get chances to talk to others.’

‘Glad I talked to you then.’ He has three dots for a while and then seems to think better of it.

‘You’ve got to give me eyeliner tips.’ I say on a whim desperately wanting to compliment his looks and finding this as the best way to do it.

‘You like makeup?’ 

‘I don’t think I could pull it off as good as you.’ I text flushing, ‘I’d wear eyeliner like that everyday if I could. Not sure I have the confidence, or eyes, though.’

‘Careful that’s how you go full emo you’re already a mopy, hair in your eyes, neutral color loving teenager.’

I cover the snort as I attempt to explain that I want him to do my makeup without being weird and decide to joke, ‘It’s my next form.’

‘I’m down bad for goths but I guess I can make an exception for a weird dirty emo.’

‘Dirty?!’ I send a emoji of a gasp. But my smile falls, does he mean literally or does he know?

‘You know, like grunge?’

‘That’s ironic because my last name…’ I feel weird all of a sudden. He seems big on teasing so what if he starts making fun of it as well. I back track hard as he texts.

‘No way is your last name grunge, that's so cool.’

My fingers pause halfway through texting my lie about having a normal last name. ‘Close it’s not as cool though.’

‘I won’t pry.’ He sends a winky face. ‘You’d never be able to guess my last name.’

‘Sparklepants.’ I type immediately.

I see the dots and then disappear and then he doesn’t text back immediately. I panic, forcing myself to wait until finally he texts, ‘Had me laughing so hard I couldn’t type, yeah sure grunge and sparklepants sounds like a really bad stripper group name.’

I smile and decide to tone it back a little bit. I don't think my heart could risk another risk at insulting him. We text for a while. He’s so calm and open it’s so easy getting to know him a little bit better. After he doesn’t text back for a while I look out the window. ‘I guess I should probably sleep now.’ I text him. He sends me some zzz’s back and I turn off the phone rolling over. My stomach rumbles. I frown. I try to sleep anyway. More grumbles and growling. 

“I bought snacks.” The man adjusts his mirror to look at me where I’m laying down. 

“I know.” I say.

“Do you not like the options?”

“Nhm.” I mumble into my pillow.

“You haven’t eaten since…the day before yesterday.” He informs, not sounding concerned but he seems to want me to stay alive and healthy. 

“I feel sick.” I sigh. “Nauseous.”

He looks back at the road. After nothing for a minute he starts slowing down. I sit up feeling nervous. I look at him… starting to scoot towards the door handle when he stops the car completely. I pant, getting ready to run or defend myself. 

He gets out and goes around. Locked. I press against the opposite door as he opens the door and goes through the snacks and drinks. 

“Here.” 

I flinch, taking the drink. 

“It has ginger in it.” 

I turn the bottle over looking and then open it figuring he’d be more than happy to waterboard me with the carbonated drink. He hands me a granola bar. “Eat this in small bites between sips.” I swallow hard looking down at the boring granola bar and then proceed to follow his instructions. About a quarter of the way through, my stomach starts to feel better but I give it a break. 

He looks into the woods and wonders out loud, “It should have caught up to that motel by now.” I suddenly wish he wasn’t standing in the doors way preventing me from closing it. “Hope it doesn’t eat that flashy green friend of yours.” He chuckles to himself. 

I gasp, “Is that a legitimate concern? And I thought you were heartless?” He narrows his eyes at me like he was wondering if I was being serious or sarcastic and then closes the door to return to his seat. 

I text the green haired boy, ‘Be careful outside tonight, okay?’ He immediately sends a thumbs up emoji. I look at the madman, “Is everyone I interact with in possible danger?” 

He starts driving again, “Maybe.” He answers in a way that pretty much tells me he’s done talking. I sigh in frustration and throw myself back into the blankets, closing my eyes to sleep. 

                                                                       .    .     .     .    Mice    .    .    .    .

“Wake up.” The madman shakes me a little and I jump up looking around wildly. We’re at a hotel, the sun is just starting to rise. 

I quickly do the math in my head. “Have I been asleep all day?” ‘A full 24 hours?’

“I’m going to take a quick nap before getting back on the road.” He informs, ignoring me. Getting out of the car I hurry to follow pulling my headphones on and pull my hood down lower over my face. I hold myself practically in his shadow as I follow him to the front desk.

When he opens the door he pushes me inside causing me to whirl around stepping backwards in the warm comfy themed room. He holds up his hands, “Stay here.” He orders and goes back for our things. I look around and then head to a corner to slump in scared. He pours something on the window sill and goes into the bathroom to relieve himself I guess. I must be severly dehydrated I acknowdge.

After he finishes I wait until he flops down in the bed to dash past him and hide in the bathroom. 

I almost jump out of my skin when I feel something in my pocket move. For a heart stopping second I wrack my brain to fathom why my clothing had suddenly animated. 

‘The experiments! That’s right I put some of them in my hoodie.’ I remember all my careless rolling around, 'I'm glad they're okay?!' I panic even more, ‘if the madman found them he’d..!’ I hesitate to pull them out. They must be exhausted and hungry. I quickly peek out of the bathroom. I left my snacks in the car. The keys to it are probably on him. 

I stare at his sleeping form, ‘that was fast.’ Taking a deep breath to steel myself I approach his bag to go through first, hoping the keys are in there. His bag is actually full of interesting stuff. I look up to make sure he’s not waking up and then take the entire bag into the bathroom to go through.

My hoodie pocket squirms again and two mice poke their heads out, looking around. I freeze, looking down at them. One disappears back into my pocket with a frightened squeak and the other stares up into my soul. I let out a nervous breath. Then, slowly at first, it crawls out and dashes further into the bathroom. Apparently looking for an escape route. I try not to notice its humanoid limbs as it stands and looks up at the window.  

I shift slowly to be careful of the others in my pocket and look back at the bag. There wasn’t much left inside it. I carefully check the other pockets and find an ornamental knife. Pocketing it quickly as I don’t want him to have a weapon I sigh. Not a single granola bar or more importantly car keys in the bag. 

I watch the mouse bounce around a little bit more before getting up on one knee to grab the bloody meat. Only for the other mouse to fall out of my pocket with a squeak. I reach down without thinking, the bracelet slipping down almost off my hand and it bites me. Jerking my hand back I examine the blood forming a droplet on my finger. Out of the corner of my eye, the other mouse run-hops back to help the other, lifting him up much like a human. I tell myself again that the madman probably made them. 

I try to ignore the braver one as once again it stares up at me. Finally breaking its gaze the brave mouse helps the weaker, probably wounded mouse to the far wall. I reach up to rewrap the meat and put it back in the bag except it’s harder now since I don’t want to touch the soiled smelling package with my open cut. 

The mouse runs back towards me and looks up sniffing. 

'Please tell me it’s not wanting this.' I think holding the flesh and as I put it down towards the bag it runs closer thinking I’m going to put it on the floor. I cringe because I should probably let the hungry mice have it but it’s disgusting. Thankfully it's the antique box that the mouse hesitantly approaches . It’s so tense that no matter how slowly I move it dashes away until it realizes I’m not trying to stop it. 

Much more confident it lifts human-like hands to the drawers. I put up the meat and then moving the backpack, stand to wash my hands. Three times. I keep an eye on the mouse who’s opening the drawers and looking in sniffing cutely. I dry my hands on my shirt. 

Crouching, careful of the last animal in my hoodie, I lift the lid to the small chest and open up the compartments. It’s all fancy, swinging open on hinges, and full of small drawers holding containers and vials. The mouse looks through them like it knows what it’s doing. It pulls a bottle as big as it is out and I swear it looks like it’s full of honey. I assist as it looks up to me expectantly.

I pull on the cork and my nose wrinkles at the sickeningly sweet smell but the mouse jumps hands up to it. I don’t want to contaminate the liquid by giving it to a mouse running around on the bathroom floor so I pour a drop in my palm. The mouse climbs up my pants leg and perches on my knee again lifting its hands eagerly. I lower my palm to it, tensing in case it bites me again. But the poor starving little thing just half crawls onto my hand to lick up the “honey.”

I lift the mouse a little higher to look at it closer and then stop as I’m starting to realize it’s definitely not a mouse. I watch as it sits up cleaning its whiskers. I look over to the other mouse who was apparently trying to sneak up on me but I startle it all the way back to the other side of the room. I stifle a snort and then, looking at the one that's brave, nod to his friend. The brave “mouse” looks over my hand at the other one. 

After preparing with a little wiggle it then jumps down to my knee and then the floor. The scaredy mouse cringes back and cowers as his brave friend coaxes him closer to me. I pour more of the honey and offer it to the scaredy mouse. The brave one walks over to my hand hovering over the ground, touching my thumb to show that it’s safe. I hold my breath as the shy one scurries over and hesitantly grabbing the brave mouse’s hand gets pulled onto my hand. 

I tilt my head. They’re different colors and sizes but obviously the same, strange species with humanoid limbs. The shy one scoops up the honey in both hands and jumps down running a little away to eat it. I swear the brown mouse shakes its head. Then looking up at me with strange lifeless eyes, lifts its hands up to its head, starting to pull it back. My eyes widen as it falls revealing another head underneath. 

It was wearing a mouse pelt as a hood. 

I jerk my head away closing my eyes, “No you’re a mouse, you’re a mouse.” I say out loud. But the image is burned into my eyes. I peek open an eye as the “mouse” squeaks loudly at me. It points to the window and makes pleading gestures with folded hands. I sigh then look again at its humanoid face with big black eyes and adorable whiskers. 

‘Oh wait!’ There's one more.’ I shift, making it grab ahold of me not to lose its balance as I carefully pull the bird out of my hoodie pocket. I show the bird to the “mouse” who looks away. I can’t hide my distress and the mouse looks back at the lighter brown mouse who cleans his hands and whiskers. I lift the bird higher to see if it’s still breathing. I blow a little air on its feathery face. I think I see movement and make a hopeful noise.

The brown mouse looks at me again and then finally approaches the bird. I offer more of the “honey.” I gasp as they put it in their mouth thinking that they’re eating it until they lift the bird's head and press their mouths together.

I go still watching breathless as the “mouse” coaxes some life back into the bird actually getting it to swallow the honey. I start to smile and then the mouse wiping its mouth points at the window again. I look up at it and sighing to see them go so soon but knowing they needed to leave as soon as possible, nod. The mouse looks so relieved, I ignore the strange tingle of danger rising as I approach the dark window.