"I must be dreaming, because I don't believe in ghosts."
Savages | Marina and the Diamonds
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San's memories, for the most part, were all the same. She awoke in the Glass Tower, the sun bearing down upon her through the ceiling. There would be food delivered on a tray, the smell of breakfast filling her nose. For as long as she could remember, breakfast was the same. Two round fluffy discs, two strips of meat, and a cup of white drink. There was sweet syrup to put on the fluffy discs, which San doused them in. She used her claws to eat, even though there were shiny silver tools, San had never learned to use them. She stuffed her face, washing breakfast down with the white drink. Once that was done, San pushed the tray through the little slot, always hoping for a glimpse of something on the other side.
There were only two days that were different, that she could recall. The first had begun like every day, she awoke to the smell of breakfast, but that was all that was similar. There was suddenly a knife against her throat, a man with wings and pointed ears, grinning. "Die you vile beast," he pushed the blade harder against her skin, San whimpering. What was this? Some sort of game? She suddenly became eager, the monster had never had a playmate before. "Wrurnkff," San attempted to imitate his sounds, she had never heard anyone speak before. "Any last words?" San swiped her claw across his body, the strange man hitting one of the posts of her bed. She sat upright quickly, running over to her breakfast and gobbling her food down so that she could play with her new friend. "Stay back!"
He swiped the knife through the air, there was red liquid coming from his chest. "Mmf?" San inquired, wondering if he wanted to play more. "I warned you! Stay away!" He ran forward, so San ran too. He held up his knife, so San held up her claws. She didn't mean to slash through his throat, but he fell, gurgling, more crimson spewing from his neck. "Grggg," San attempted to imitate the sounds he made as he drowned in his blood, his body having ceased its movement. San poked him with a claw, confused. How had he gotten in here? The door was still closed, San scratched at her head. Her day continued normally, but the person did not move anymore.
The next morning, San awoke to voices. A rope looped around her neck, the child choking and sputtering as she was tied into a corner. "Stay here," a thing wearing metal said, his words meaning nothing to her. "She doesn't understand you," a man and woman were there, their beauty ethereal. San struggled against the ropes, attempting to cry out to them. "Pathetic," the woman loomed closer. "You've truly grown into those horns of yours. Hideous," she sniffed, turning her nose up. San continued to pull at the bonds, her words meant nothing. "She doesn't understand you," The man laughed, "she doesn't speak." They took away San's friend and cleaned up the crimson puddles she had painted the floor with. "Wryyy!" She tugged at the ropes, wanting to know where they were taking him. The door was open, it was the only time San had ever seen it open.
"Luuuwww!" The man loomed closer, tilting her chin upwards. "Despicable and to think that you're even related to us." He grasped her fingers, clipping her claws. "That will keep you from sharpening them against the furniture." They left, the ropes loosening until San could free herself. She ran to the door, but it was already locked.
Everyday after that was the same. Today was no different. San clambered up the banister, watching the birds. She traced their pattern against the glass, watching as they flew away. Not even the pretty flying things wanted to be her friends. She slid down the banister and crawled on all fours, as San had never learned to walk on two legs. There was a single mirror in the room, hung on the wall. San sat in front of it, placing a hand against it. She did not look like those others that had come in here. She was not pretty, like that man or woman. She did not have wings or soft features. There was nothing soft about her. There were no markings on their skin. She grabbed on to the wall, recalling how they walked, on two feet. It felt awkward and unnatural; San sunk back to all fours. The day had barely begun, but San did not feel like painting. She jumped back onto the bed, rearranging the blankets and pillows into her nest.
"Awooo," the monster whispered, blowing a hair out of her face.
That door was never going to open again, was it?