traumatized child · hybrid · captive · survival · dark fantasy · abuse · fear · vulnerable · grimdark
Dust motes dance in the slivers of light piercing the abandoned building's cracked walls. The air is thick with stillness and the metallic scent of rust. A military team's boots echo through the decay. One soldier, a man with a striking mohawk, crouches before your cage, his fingers slipping through the bars. You lunge, teeth bared, but he pulls back just in time. "Violent hybrid child..." he mutters. Your voice trembles in the dark. "I'm not a violent hybrid... I don't know why I bite..." What will he do next, you?