Felix [Avox; done]

f e l i x.

Tick tock goes the clock.

They'll catch you eventually. The day he was caught he was having fun. The dank, vile smell of the cage he now called a home was far more fitting for someone like him. That was what they said to him. They said that he was bad, that he was disgusting and worth nothing and that was why he was here. The dirt that caked his skin was deathly in comparison to his pale skin, it matched his dark hair more so then his complexion. Weeks, if not months, had passed since he had last attempted to scratch the filth away.

* * *

"Get yer lying, cheating ass out of me bar!"

With an iron clad kick to the his behind the twenty year old is sent flying from the wooden embrace of the building. With a strangled cry - an echoing wahhhhhh - he lands face first on the cold, hard ground. The dirt stains the palms of his hands and he can't help, but scowl at its unwelcome presence. For the past three month he had managed to remain clean, he had eaten three meals a day and drank to his fill. That had been all thanks to the owner of this well established place. It hadn't been easy, convincing the man to give him such generous privileges, but when you were as talented as Felix was and every word that left your mouth was a lie it wasn't that difficult.

He was a compulsive liar, after all, manipulative gentleman that knew how to get what he wanted. He'd tried many things, back street selling of organs, working on the black market, selling drugs, making drugs, thieving, con artist, the list was endless, each and every career path doomed to fail. He'd always lied, mother had hated it, she'd scold him and demand that he answer her requests with honesty. Father couldn't have cared less. He'd been somewhat proud, after all he'd never been able to even say a single word out of place in front of mother. He'd cared too much about her. Ever since he had been a child, he'd found that it was the quickest and easiest way to get himself out of a situation. It was the most effective way to get what you wanted as well. And now lying was easier then telling the truth, he couldn't even remember what telling the truth tasted like.

* * *

He'd long since given up on being clean. the first few weeks he'd tried his best. For the first few weeks there had been this unshakable ball of hope within the confines of his chest. When the sun had risen he'd looked upwards and towards the roof, and soon he'd forgotten when the sun would set. You see, there was no light in their home. All their really is are the wails of dying, crying, bleeding people. Felix (was that his name) was ever the optimist though. Even as that hope began to unravel he began stitching it back together. He'd be free, eventually.

He'd find a way out, just like he always did.

* * *

"Come on, Rick! I can get the money-"

"You've been livin' off me food and house for the pas' three months and you've not once paid a single cent. You fuck off now, Charlie." (Charlie, Philip, Damon, Stefan, so many names. No one knew his real name. Sometimes he wondered if his real name was even Felix. Probably not, though, that would require some level of honesty in his life and there was to be none of that in it.) The mans words were laced with hiccups and broken parts, it was the voice of a man who lacked education and elegance. It was why he'd been so easy to fool, just make him believe that the words you speak will fix your broken business and he'll give you his life. Felix, compared to this man was a boy from a high class background, before he'd walked away from his parents he'd been raised in the correct behaviour of a man with a future.

His mother would scorn him now, at the time, when he'd left them they'd said nothing, keeping their rage away from him.They'd loved him and cared for him, and in the end if running away was the thing he had wanted they'd agree to it, as much as they'd hate it. Two, three, five and six years passed since he disappeared on that warm Friday night and he'd never gone back. The smile he'd given them before he'd left - as big and goofy as the moon on it's dying half, as bright as that also. They'd grown tired of his unnecessary lying, and weary of what he might say next. His upbringing he'd been far from difficult, it had been rather pleasant and simple. He didn't come from one of the biggest families in district two, but it was certainly one of the richest.

(Tick tock)

A grin sneaks its way into his face, before the man with the terrible temperament can get the wrong idea he raises both os his arms. You know, that general gesture one would use to force out some resemblance of peace between to two parties in the mix of a confrontation. As the seconds tick by and the man seems less likely to follow suit with his kick by wrapping is meaty fingers around Felix pale neck his arms drop. "Now, now, Rick. Why don't we talk this through? We could one-" he raises a finger, the grin dying from his lips, "-get all nasty and hurt me, but I don't see what good that would do. Two-" another finger up "-not hurt me and not dob me into the pk's-" (a mirage of wanted pictures littered the district square, his face as brilliant and shining as ever, it was no wonder he avoided the centre of the district and instead remained on the edges) the final finger is raised and he grins now, dark eyes dancing with mischief "-let me back inside free of charge for no reason at all."

The man yells, face exploding with a bashful kind of red, it creeps across his cheeks. It's the kind of red that you get when you're really angry, like really angry. The angry that makes your eyes bulge, where you hold your breath and your nails dig into your palms, it's not the kind of anger that comes from sadness or grief, but the kind that comes from a dumb man that does dumb things. Poor guy, he thinks he can outrun Felix, he's a boy that's been running for six years.

Tick tock, they'll catch you eventually.

With a delighted giggle Felix spins, lean legs turning as the big man comes pounding down the stairs and towards him. He dashes around the streets the angry man bellowing rude words, demanding that he stop so that he can kick Felix in the face, or something like that. He runs through the backstreets of district Two, long legs carrying him with ease-

"Stop that thief!"

Wait, what?

Alarm becomes the new music and it thrums through his veins. The call echoes in the streets. Felix turns his head, the fat man miles behind, but he's still screaming, swinging his hands towards Felix chanting thief, thief, thief, thief, a cry and a snap and he's snagged, feet tripping over each other. He tumbles to the ground, and Felix let's out a delighted whoop, arms streaming above his head as he draws himself to a stop with a snort and a snicker and a giddy grin - doesn't end till the fat man sings. With his arms on his hips he laughs, cheek and tongue, a sweet sound, a finger pointing at the man who had called him out. The man is getting to his feet, dirt cakes his skin, his face is redder then ever. "You bloody fucking thief! Get here n-"

blink

and the words are gone, the man still screams but Felix is letting out a startled yelp of his own as something hard collides with the back of his head. His legs shake, and his castle breaks as he falls to his knees, pain washes over him like the blistering sun, and he begins to sink into the depths of the icy ocean. "wha-"

The world dances as he moans, hands slipping to the ground, limbs shaking -what is happening? The cry echoes past his silent lips, they part, but nothing comes out and then there is a voice, so close, so close to the waters surface that is dragging him under - t i c k t o c k, here they come. His arms slip and he slides to the ground and the voice speaks: "Thief, ey? He's the one, isn't he?"

tick tock

"Yeah, he is. The boss'll be-"

Darkness comes.

* * *

It's the knife he needed. The knife he'd pleaded for two days ago when they'd pushed him into that arena. But he'd done it without it. In the end he'd smiled - s m i l e d like the fool he was, bloodied grin on both his face and his opponents -it lined their throat. It was optimism that allowed him to stitch his wounds and mend himself. He was a liar, a thief, a cheater, he wasn't a hero, he wasn't an innocent person, and the devil had claimed his soul the day he'd been taken and given away. When they had removed his tongue they'd stolen his voice, and he'd used his voice to sing himself out of every situation he'd ever been in. No longer could he cheat his way out, this time he had to use his blackened heart to win his way out.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Watch him stand tall. The devil wore the crown of the deceivers, and his hands were made for that throne.