( matt hates that he jumps at every single sound that he hears but he can't help it. he feels completely and utterly blind, lost and weak. people have approached him, told him who they are, what they're doing here and he still reacts like a wounded fawn every time someone gets close.

it's terrible.

he tries, though, to be helpful. when he's feeling up to it, he circles around their prison, hands dragging against the wall, feeling out what it's made of. he's gotten the hint that it's very tall, very wide structure and that getting out isn't happening.

for once, matt's actually grateful for his shitty diet because there's little to eat and he wants those that need it more to have it. but he can't really disguise the grumbling on his stomach a few days in. he is hungry but he ignores it.

he doesn't sleep much. it's so, so dark and he feels cut off. he lays there, propped up against the side of the pit and tries to think of something, anything that might let him have a few hours of sleep.

but nothing works. he gets as close as a doze when something close by, sharp and angry, wakes him up. he lifts a hand, holding it out and trying to figure out what that was. not a person, no, but something else. )

Stay back. Stay away from me.