It was a truth Brick was loath to acknowledge that he was first born in a toilet.
When snips, snails, puppy-dog tails, and nasty radioactive toilet water combined, the first thing Brick remembers is that he is shoved in a small, cramped space with two other bodies. He doesn't know who they are, really, but they are as much a part of him as his…what are these? Arms? It's too tight for him to wave them around. He blinks open his…eyes, right?...and takes his first look at the world.
It is filthy and has crusted-on gunk he really doesn't want to think about, even if he knew the words to use. They will come eventually, something whispers, but for now he needs to get out of this…place.
The other two bodies pressed flush against him wriggle, a bundle of limbs and hearts and unintelligible squeaks as they try to flail apart. He can't escape from them, nor them from him. One smells of definite underdog, kicking feebly against the other two and making the most noise. The other has more of a…hammy sort of smell, he supposes, like a pretend Alpha. He is wriggling the most, and his swipes actually…hurt? Is this what pain feels like?
Too tight, too tight.
As they struggle, it's as if some sort of demented light shines down on them. For the first time, Brick—though he doesn't know where the name came from, he likes it—experiences a truly rational thought—an escape plan. He flies upwards and finds that his body responds. He feels…powerful. That hellish light is telling him that he is special, that this is not something normal people—whatever they are—can do. And his two birth-friends, those bodies compressed with him in their birthplace, are detached at long last. He is free of them.
He looks down and sees the toilet from above. His newfound consciousness tells him that this is not something to be proud of; it is something to hide, a shame to mark the rest of his existence.
The rest is history, not even worth dwelling on. In fact, Brick would like to forget most of that first life. But that memory—that first birth—is something he can't get rid of, try as he might.
Brick was born in a toilet. His first sight was the filthiness of the world, and it is all he has been able to see since.
A/N: This was my entry for LiveJournal's PPG Hub Drabble Contest. I came in close second to a much better entry, and now those lovely ladies have twisted my arm into posting this on my FFN. XD Anyway, hope everyone enjoys! Review, please!