It was another day in the basement. One week since he’s last had food. His muzzle was keeping him from biting anyone even though there was hardly anyone down here. His collar pulled into his neck as he pulls against the chain leash tied around a notch in the stone wall. It was cold, and he was feeling ill, wishing for anything to put in his stomach. His wrists ached from the metal shackles around them, cemented into the floor.

He heard the door to the stairway creak open before footsteps started to descend. Finally, food. He hated relying on others for things, especially something as normal and needed as this.

His eyes narrowed when he saw his captor opening his cell door. He hated them so much. They took him away and starved him for months. He knew they wanted him to break, but he wouldn’t give in so easily.