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Silly Rabbit. If only he hadn't tried to hard in the past, maybe now he'd be free to do as he pleased. But alas, the walls around him were white and torn, tattered from the endless struggles he endured. His mind whizzed around in circles, never repeating any other phrase other than, "Silly Rabbit. Trix are for kids!"

One would be as curious as to why something so little could send one into a freaked craze. Forever morphing his mind, haunting his memories. But it could - words were the strongest weapon in the world.

Even now, the poor silly thing sits onto of his chairs, arms wrapped tightly around his chest in an inescapable bond. His ears hang low, scabbed up and bloodied from being jerked around so much, even chewed on. Once vibrant eyes are the color of spilled ink, the area below just as dark as the iris. Frail, skeleton body with fur stuck to the bones heaves in and out, in and out. Mind a'whirl. Heart racing. Eyes rolling madly. His teeth are filed down to round stubs, some of them broken and chipped. His body bears all sorts of crazy scars.

Now, his mind plays tricks. Raspberry red, lemony yellow, orangey orange! All bouncing up and down inside his crazed, rotten mind, singing the same phrase those kids sung to him for countless years.

"Silly Rabbit! Trix are for kids!

Trix are for kids!