_He knows._

Those two words whirl through my head like a hurricane, thumping with every heart beat, gasping with every breath. A knot of dread writhes in my stomach as I bolt through the bustling markets, desperate for an escape from my captor.

His huffing breaths draw unbearably close. Hurriedly, I kick over a barrel and a small smile creeps onto my face as I hear him collide with it.

The smell o...

_Scraps. _

My favourite word, meal and quite possibly my will to live.

The smell of them waft up to where I sit perched precariously above a human food court, luring me like bait to where they sit.

I swoop down to collect the delicious treasure and slurp their gooey contents in a way that humans might find “grotesque” or “repulsive”. Luckily the judgy creatures barely glance my way— privilege of ...

Words are _dangerous_.

Not in the way most things are— weapons draw blood and pain, whereas words draw emotion, _meaning_. For me, it was hurt that they drew. With just two simple syllables, I lost the one person who stayed.

“He’s dead.” I wasn’t sure if the words had come from me or someone else. The hospital reeked of death, sounded of sorrow. Even as unushed tears filled my eyes, they never s...