He stretched, yawned, checked his surroundings. Still the same. No change. Not that he expected any. That’s not the way the world normally worked. Or, at least, not so much for him. For probably the third time in a single day, he paused a moment to consider what had landed him in this predicament.

Some would claim it was his upbringing. It’s only natural. When bad things happen, it’s the parents that are blamed first. Improper upraising and breeding. The violent ones are always not disciplined enough. Or, bad seeds from bad trees. And, while it might be true, he would be the first to say his parents were actually very nurturing. They had always been there for him. They had always been ready to defend him against what life might throw. And certainly they hadn’t lead him down this path. Probably, they, of all others, would be the ones least proud of what had happened--and in his family, pride was a pretty big deal.

Of course, it wouldn’t be right to say his parents were entirely blameless. Afterall, they probably didn’t even care enough to check what had happened to him. That’s if they even knew he was gone yet. If they were alive. Being fair, he thought, it was his fault they didn’t know where he was. It was him who had run off. He was just going out into the world to make a way for himself, but he kind of left family to the side. That exonerated his parents at least, right?

And despite all that, his parents found a way to love and protect him. And he came out just fine. His mother, who worked day and night to keep him safe and fed, who had to do most of the heavy lifting, found time to play with him and try to teach him. Sure, her experience was limited, but she taught him as well she could. He learnt, he really did. Just…not well enough to keep him from behind bars. It wasn’t his fault he was a violent kid. It was the world he grew up in. It really was. If the world had been handed to him on a platter, he wouldn’t be here. He never knew of any other way to get what he wanted but violence.

He stopped pacing to look up at the light coming through the bars. The concrete muted the beauty of it. On any other day, he probably would have found the light annoying. But today, he enjoyed it. It was a reminder of the outside world. Of the world that he had and let get away. It was disappointing. To own the world, to climb to the top and mount it, and then to fall so far. He didn’t mind the concrete. He didn’t mind the bars. No, what he minded was the freedom, the space—all of it taken away from him. To run and not need to stop. To love who he want when he wanted and never look back. To be able to just sit and stare at the world and know it was staring back. He could be dramatic at times. He began pacing again, now oblivious to the nostalgia brought on by the sunlight.

So what brought him here, really? While he wanted to blame his environment, he couldn’t. He’d had many siblings, but none of them ever ended up like him. No, it wasn’t just the environment. He definitely shouldn’t have fought with his brother. That was the reason; he was sure of that much. He found his brother with his sister and….well that was just it. He kind of lost it. All control, all composure, gone. Who could blame him? How could the dirty little rat even consider it? Who did he think he was, lying with his sister? And maybe if his sister had gone along with it, he could at least understood. No. It was wrong. Period. But justified or not, here he was. Get in one fight where someone dies and the other almost dies, you can almost be sure you won’t see the morning. Just, in this case, he survived to morning. He just was locked away.

That’s what got him in here anyways. Yes, that was it. He should have thought ahead. He would have been able to predict what would happen. He could have gotten away. Really, it was stupid. If he had just taken a moment he would have realized that he would have been caught. The man with the vest and gun outside his home should have been clear enough. He just wasn’t looking. He could have seen him. Not to mention the vehicle parked nearby. He should have been smarter. But he wasn’t thinking in the here and now.

He stopped again. There was a noise from outside the door, the one on the left. Behind the bars there was a commotion. He should check it out. Probably. Nah, it didn’t involve him.

A lot of things nowadays didn’t involve him. That’s how it is being locked up. Perhaps if he had accepted the food he had been given he would have been given more leeway. He didn’t eat for the first three days he had been here. He learned quickly what that got him: special treatment. He had been isolated in here while he was examined for illness and depression. Apparently no one wanted him to die early. He certainly didn’t care. He could sleep his way to death. That wouldn’t be too bad really. But his hunger overtook him. And now he was waiting to see what would happen next.

His problem really was that he took after his father too much. Yeah, his parents had been good devoted parents. His father always kept him safe. But his father…well, his father was a bit of a bum. Lazy, to be honest. But his father tried. That’s what mattered. His father watched out for him and his mother. Who cared that his father wasn’t the one out there being a breadwinner—what mattered was that his father loved him. Watching out for eight kids is a tough job. That’s why his father was always tired.

He shook his head back in forth. No, he didn’t believe that, not anymore at least. When he was younger, he did. Now, he knew better. His father had just been lazy. His father did protect him and was a generally good guy. He was fairly loyal to his mother even—which was really uncommon in his neighborhood. But his father was lazy. He took after his father. He was lazy. That’s probably why he didn’t do anything to make sure he didn’t get caught.

He stopped pacing again. What did it matter anymore anyway. Here he was, in a cage. He scratched at his nose, stopping a building itch. The time for thinking about things was long past. For now, all this thinking was making him tired. He leapt up onto the large concrete slab meant for sleeping. He stretched, laid down. He closed one eye, the yellow of his left eye slowing disappearing beneath his eye lid.

And right as he readied to close his right, he heard it. The key. Someone was opening the door. There was someone behind the door, this time the one on the right. The massive locks clicked. Then the high-pitched voice came.

“Hey Diata, we brought you a buddy. I think you’ll be most happy.”

He jumped up, becoming acutely aware of his surroundings. There the man was, standing in his brown uniform and brown little hat with large boots and tan socks. A big key-ring hung at the man’s belt. This guy was annoying. Always. But today the man seemed a lot happier than normal. Something was wrong.
A group of four men just like him came up behind him, pulling in a set of iron bars across the concrete enclosure, halving it, separating the right door from the left. It locked into place. This couldn’t be good.

Then the men left. It was just him and the annoying man. The annoying man did something truly stupid—he pet his head. Diata wasn’t stupid, he let him do it and just snarled. The man got the idea and scurried out. The right door closed, and the locks clicked. Then the locks on the left door began clicking. The door swung open followed by the sound of metal releasing. Then, slowly, something came in. Wait…

Not just something. A her. The she-lion stepped in. She was lithe, smooth, powerful. She was…beautiful. He called out. She pretended not to notice, taking stock of the cage instead. If this is what punishment looked like, Diata would be forcing himself to suffer through punishment a bit longer.


Outside the door with bars, the annoying man looked to one of his companions, “Yeah, this is really what it’s about. Being a zookeeper, there’s nothing better than bringing two rescued animals together. Diata’s been so depressed recently, but I certainly hope this’ll cheer him up and bring him out of himself.”

The annoying man’s companion looked back at him puzzled. “He’s just a damn lion, man.”