**TRIGGER WARNING: Implied abuse and physical and mental abuse**

My eyes slowly drew open as my mind groggily processed what was happening. A man was in front of me, binding my wings together. Instinctively, I tried to scream, but only a muffled whine escaped my mouth. He had already placed a gag in my mouth, and I quickly realised he had bound my ankles as well when I tried kicking him off of me. I could do nothing but watch as he did what he pleased with me. I tried everything to get it to end. I sobbed. I continued to scream around the gag. I resisted in every way possible. But it didn’t matter to him. Ultimately, I gave up. I stopped kicking and squirming and just laid still, trying to concentrate on anything but his torture. I stared at the walls of the room— the three grey walls and their 27 cracks, 4 on one wall, 13 on another, 10 on the last. I observed the ceiling and tried to identify the constellations in the stars painted on. I only knew of a few, and only because my mother had taught me them here in this room. I had never seen the actual stars. I recognised Orion, and Cassiopeia, and, of course, the Dippers, but anything more than that escaped me at the moment. I turned my attention to the open side of the room. Rather than being bordered by a fourth wall, this edge was enclosed with thick metal bars, placed at such a width that you could see through them easily enough but only very small creatures could’ve passed through them unless the gate was open. The hinged edge of the gate was starting to look rusty, but it was still strong enough not to budge when I had previously tried to open the gate forcibly. There was little of interest inside the room, only details I was intimately familiar with. Immediately under me was the bed I slept in. Its sheet was plain white, and the sheet was all that adorned it besides a mostly flattened pillow that smelled a bit like fish for whatever reason. A small table was located nearby the bed, barely more than a block of wood balanced on another block of wood. A “mirror” that seemed to be little more than some type of reflective foil attached to a frame was taped to the wall across from the bed, so that I could preen myself neat. Other than those three pieces of furniture and the painting on the ceiling, the only thing that decorated the room was a perch. It looked like something that would belong in a bird cage, but scaled up to a size that the bird would have to be very large to be proportional to it. All of the sudden, my stomach burnt like fire and I was drawn back to the man in front of me. I glared at him, and he glared at me.

“I’ll repeat my question for ya’ since ya’ seem to be exceptionally dumb— even for one of yer kind. Are ya’ goin’ to sing for me?”

I didn’t respond in any way, just continued to glare.

He scoffed, “Fine, if ya’d rather continue to do things the hard way, I won’t stop ya’, just know it ain’t on me, ya’ chose this for yerself.”

I still continued to do nothing but stare. He growled under his breath and then punched me hard in the stomach. I involuntarily lurched up, bending inwards on myself to protect my vital organs, and the man chuckled.

“Stupid bird. Woulda thought ya’d’ve learned yer lesson by now.”

As he spoke, he tidied himself and untied the gag and loosened the bindings. As soon as the gag was out of my mouth a small hiss escaped me, which seemed to catch him off guard.

“Hissing? That’s a new one. It’s funny, ya’ know? From what I’ve heard, yer such a vocal lil birdy when no one’s around to hear ya’, but ya’ still won’t sing til yer properly motivated.”

I would’ve lunged for him if I thought I could’ve taken him, but I was still weak, I wasn’t much up to self-defense even if I wasn’t still somewhat bound. I shook my body out carefully, subtly analyzing the status of my body and ensuring he hadn’t done any real damage. Not that it would’ve mattered.

He turned back to me after securing himself on the opposite side of the gate from me, “It’s a real shame how things worked out for ya’. Ya’ could’ve had a good life if yer kind hadn’t made such poor decisions. Ya’ probably could’ve been happy, at least to a certain degree. But now ya’ made an enemy of yer owner, and even if ya’ could escape ya’ couldn’t fend for yerself. Yer just an expensive piece of art, not even a livin’ being anymore. Maybe one day yer gonna find yerself in the possession of someone who’ll care for ya’ and be kind, but even if that day is to come, ya’d still be empty inside cuz ya’d know it was all fake.”

Suddenly, the look in his eyes gleamed with a joy that contrasted the words that escaped his lips with a whole different level of sincerity than I was used to hearing from anyone, “No one is left who would ever love a monster like you.”