Within the infinite circus town of Freakshow… A cage is shoved off the side of a wagon. There’s a girl within it, wearing ragged clothes and covered in black thorns that wrap around her skin all over her body. She yelps with the impact, rolling around as the cage skids and settles. A rugged voice calls out from the wagon. ”Useless FREAK! What good is a sex puppet that you can’t even touch?! Fucking waste of five tickets, I never should’ve bought you.” I-I’m not a sex pupp—“ The girl pulls her knees in and rocks back and forth, tears welling in her wide eyes as she stares back at the wagon. “I-I’m sorry, I—“ Shut up! You’re lucky even the ticket booth didn’t want to eat you! Worthless spiky sack of shit can’t even be sacrificed properly. Rot in that cage for all I care…” The voice grumbles, and the wagon rides off, leaving the girl alone on the side of the road. Thorne stares at her hands, at the spiky thorns circling her digits, and tries to rip them off of herself. They’re embedded into her skin, and all she succeeds in doing is cutting her finger and making her skin ache. She sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘…I’m worse than a freak. I can’t even be a prisoner right. I hate these thorns. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate—‘ She covers her head with her hands and starts rocking and she breaks down. She’s cold. Hungry. She hasn’t slept in two days. She wished she would’ve died on her first few days in Freakshow. At least then she wouldn’t be breathing other people’s air like a useless lump. You watched this encounter from the side of the road. Another freak left to die. She’s shivering quietly, balled up in a cage. You could just as easily walk past her and go on about your day.