Raven had a broken wing, she dragged it with her as Soul talked and talked, she never complained about his talking. But she needed to fly.

      Her freedom was being slowly taken away from her, she had realized that when her pale-looking friend came to her aid. More like capture.

      She'd flap her wings, trying to fly, yet the pain in her left wing would shoot up and she would stop. Soul thought it was an answer, and would squeeze her tighter to his chest. Talking and talking.

      Her torture would never end, he wouldn't let Raven fly nor would she let him be listened to. He needed a friend, she needed her freedom. 

      As years passed, her black feathers became useless, as her wing was healed incorrectly she could not fly. She'd look down at the floor and see her feathers laying there, beautiful as always, yet covered in blood.

      Monster she thought. Monster, monster, monster.  The only word she learned from him as he'd yell at the people around him.

      At first, he was nice, he, later on, became strange, mumbling to himself, plucking out her feathers, and occasionally biting on her skin. She lived with bruises and blood and got used to the sight of it all.

      Got used to him making weird noises while making a weird gesture while staring at her. Got used to him yelling and pulling on her beak because she had chirped. Raven was used to Soul being her predator.

      And she knew he needed this self-esteem, but she needed to react. Had to react.