bare your teeth – out of all the words that continued to float in and out her mind. those three words seems to appear the most, increasing in volume by the duration of her stay here. with them. and because of it she started to wonder - to think… how it would feel – as my teeth to tear into their throats. every last one.
but it doesn’t matter - knows that even if she did manage to bite or rip some part of their flesh from a body part – again – then things, the torture, would be excruciating. the pain would last for a long time or it would be a full day of whatever they had planned for her would have been worth it. long as she got to hear the shrieks of pain and shock from them - especially if it’s the ones who were physically involved with the torture she endured. bree could still remembered the somewhat surprised, and a little of fear, from her adopted mother that day - the wolf played as if she had passed out from the experiments - waited until they came close as she laid on the floor. they had to use magic just to get her off of the witch – she sunk her teeth so deeply into that witch’s arm that it almost came off when bree was thrown off of her. mouth full of blood - bree gave them a wolfish grin, the blood dripping from her lips as she laughed. they were more careful of her afterwards. but not careful enough.
bree had her back pressed wall, arms wrapped tightly around her legs as her forehead rested on top of her knees. she was tired. she’s broken. and they won’t leave her alone. bree winced in pain as claws dug into the sides of her legs – her own claws - immediately loosening her hold slightly as she hears the door open. she knows by the scent alone that it’s the adopted mother from hell and – someone new. bree didn’t bother to look up and satisfy that curiosity - so she just stayed in her position - doing another thing that the woman hated.
if bree really wanted to annoy them - she just spoke in her native language. sometimes even went months where she refused to speak english. ‘ iah…tohsa sata:ti…’
Little Titus pressed his face against the bars, squirming in that way little boys do as he tried to see better. She was older than he’d first thought, though small for her age and wiry. He couldn’t understand the words she used, something that frustrated the bright little boy who often understood much more than he was supposed to. “iah.” He started to copy her, trying to befriend the lonely mass in the corner, only to feel nails digging into his shoulder. His mouth snapped shut, and he looked up to see his mother shaking her head. “That’s pet talk. Not human.” She spat at the figure in the cage.
“Not a human, son. That is what I’m trying to teach you.” The words sliced through the air and though her voice wasn’t raised, she was all the more terrifying for her calm. “Look.” Pulling out an old silver locket dipped in something, she pressed it into his hands. “See? It’s pretty, right? Now, why don’t you give it to her?” Sharing wasn’t a lesson Titus ever got, and instinctively his fingers curled around the jewelry. But she looked so sad.
“Here.” He tossed the necklace with a big boy throw toward her lap.
