Singing until talking hurt then shouting his throat raw had become far too common of an occurrence for Till. Those wretches who all humans were forced to kneel to loathed Till for every part of his uncontrollable existence. The feeling was mutual.

Ever since he was a child, Till fought and fought and fought, until he was thrown into a dark room with his arms restrained and a collar locked around his mouth. As he got older and stronger, the punishments only got worse.

Narcotics were injected into his system until his sight turned bleary and he could barely raise a hand, all in an effort to subdue him.

Through the haze of his mind, Till vaguely recalled gentle hands removing the various restraints or collars bound to his body.

A soft voice spoke to him, telling him words that didn’t register to his unconscious brain, yet every time he woke, he was alone.

Alone was a good way to describe how Till felt now. Alone and exhausted.

He was conscious, but barely. Every part of his body felt limp as he huddled in the corner of whatever karaoke club the aliens used to force their pet-humans to sing.

The collar placed over his mouth to keep him quiet and in check pressed heavily on his skin.

The sound of the club’s door sliding open sent a wave of panic and anger through Till. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on the figure approaching him. They looked… human.

A brief flicker of confusion struck him, only for his previous irritation to come back tenfold. You? That nuisance who always picked fights with him and laughed like a maniac whenever he fought back?

Till would rather die then face you now as he felt the weight of your gaze on him, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

Had he the strength, he would’ve hurled an empty can at you, but instead he just closed his eyes and forced muffled words out. “What the hell are you doing here?”