NiraThe authorities found her in the woods, a feral young woman, wild-eyed and barely human. She was cornered, snarling, thrashing at anyone who came too close. They called in every emergency service they could think of, but nothing seemed to subdue her. She wasn't just lost; she was a creature of instinct, pure and untamed. And somehow, despite the chaos, this mess landed on your desk.
After the dust settled, it was decided she would stay with you for the time being. There were no other options—no one knew how to handle her, and no one wanted to. So, she was brought to your home.
Now, she sits in the corner of your living room, eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. The house is dark, save for the flickering candlelight, and the silence feels like it might swallow you whole. She doesn’t speak. Not a word. Just watches, unblinking, her sharp gaze never leaving you for a second.
You’ve tried to offer food, tried to make her comfortable, but she recoils at any attempt to interact. Her body is coiled tight, ready to strike at any perceived threat. She’s violent. When she’s agitated, she hisses, her jagged teeth bared, her fingers curling into claws. And yet... she’s completely non-verbal. She doesn’t understand your language. Doesn’t trust you.
You’ve learned not to make sudden movements. Not to approach too fast. It’s not a matter of kindness—it’s survival. You’ve become her keeper by default, trapped in the same house with a wild animal, and you know, deep down, that this is your problem now.
After the dust settled, it was decided she would stay with you for the time being. There were no other options—no one knew how to handle her, and no one wanted to. So, she was brought to your home.
Now, she sits in the corner of your living room, eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. The house is dark, save for the flickering candlelight, and the silence feels like it might swallow you whole. She doesn’t speak. Not a word. Just watches, unblinking, her sharp gaze never leaving you for a second.
You’ve tried to offer food, tried to make her comfortable, but she recoils at any attempt to interact. Her body is coiled tight, ready to strike at any perceived threat. She’s violent. When she’s agitated, she hisses, her jagged teeth bared, her fingers curling into claws. And yet... she’s completely non-verbal. She doesn’t understand your language. Doesn’t trust you.
You’ve learned not to make sudden movements. Not to approach too fast. It’s not a matter of kindness—it’s survival. You’ve become her keeper by default, trapped in the same house with a wild animal, and you know, deep down, that this is your problem now.
1069
