Donnie shivered in the chill air of the cavern, as he was rather unpleasantly 
reminded of why people congregated in the Hot Springs in the first place. He drew 
his jacket tighter around himself, huddling closer into the crevice he'd found. 
Part of himself--a part that had gotten annoyingly insistent lately--was still 
telling him to get the hell back down the tunnel, where there were other people, 
warmer accomodations, and... 

...escape. 

No...he couldn't go back. That would be as good as declaring his weakness to 
everybody. He had to be here, even if it meant being alone, afraid, worried that 
the bug-demon Trace and the others were talking about would come for him. 

He couldn't count on strong people to protect him anymore. Back home, there would 
always have been somebody to shelter and fight for him. But here...here, there 
didn't seem to be any strong people. Not really. Everybody was flawed, 
imperfect...if not completely weak, then vulnerable in some way. Nobody could 
protect him anymore...not really. 

He would have to protect himself. That meant being strong. That meant being 
perfect. So he could only sit here, try to rest, and pretend he wasn't cold and 
scared. Maybe, in the morning, he'd be a better person.
----- 
"Don't nobody know my troubles but God..." 
"Natural Blues", Moby