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Written for "In Oz Drabble Tree No One Can Hear You Scream". Prompt: Bottom lip.
Cyril backs up slowly. Sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brow, he watches the fight grow bigger, drawing more people in. Some look happy about the mess, even Ryan who is moving closer and closer even though he's yelling so hard his face is turning red.
Cyril wishes he could hide. He doesn't like when it gets so loud his brain hurts and no one's words make any sense. When he was a little kid and people were mean he hid under the bed or in the closet; until he realized he was tough enough to fight back.
He could probably fight right now, but he's pretty sure that would only make Ryan madder. Instead, Cyril makes his way back to his pod and curls up the bottom bunk, in the far corner, with his back against the wall and hands over his ears. He remembers a nursery rhyme and begins singing it quietly; closing his eyes and focusing on the words until his entire world becomes a sunny meadow with a young girl named Mary and her white lamb.
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