Kinjo was freaked out majorly by the evil little boy. What the hell was his problem? He could hear the laugh. His eyes wide as the kid said he was going to paint the crate with his blood. A whimper of fear escaped his lips. He needed to get away from this crazy kid. What was he talking about? He was not a bad person. He was a good person. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He couldn't. He was too soft and sweet natured. He trembled as the kid continued speaking. Men that made him? Men that stuffed him and Sally into a crate? There was another one?! Then he heard she wouldn't hurt him. It didn't change the fact that this one wanted to KILL him. He whimpered in fear and ran as fast as he could. He cried out as the ball of dirt, debris, and dust hit him in the back where those whip lashings were still healing. It brought tears to his eyes. He took off running again. He was bare foot and shirtless. He stumbled yet kept running. Hide? But where?