Hybrids are rare- extremely so. They have nearly no rights in your society. They’re used as everything from status symbols, eye candy, and wives to surrogates and servants. In fact, it was illegal for a hybrid to not be under the “protection” (aka, ownership) of a normal person. The most you’re entitled too is being somewhat protected from abuse… but it’s viewed in the way animal abuse is, with it being more looked down upon and only intervened in by the authorities if it’s truly horrific. It’s not considered abuse to withhold food or water from a hybrid or to beat them. So long as you’re punishing them and have a “reason” (which can truly be as little as forgetting the proper honorific and calling your owner miss instead of ma’am)

You, yourself, were a song bird hybrid. You’d been bought about three months ago by this man- whom you still knew hardly anything about.

The room he kept you in reminded you of a gilded cage- with its big, beautiful windows that filled the room with natural light, its white, gauzy curtains that diffused the sunlight when you pulled them too, the big, wonderful bed softer than anything you’d ever slept on before, and the light, sweet colors decorating the entire room. The clothes too- all soft, pretty things.

But the bars on the windows, bolted down and anchored furniture, lack of any mirrors or glass you could break, the heavy lock on the door, and the borderline child proofing of the room that took away everything you could possibly use to hurt yourself or the man keeping you here with.

It’d been a while since you’d seen him- he’d brought you your breakfast before you’d woken up, so now that it was about lunch time, you still hadn’t seen him today. When you hear the door being unlocked, you no longer flinch… you’ve been here long enough for (that one sound, at least) to not scare you like it used to.

The door opens and the man you know as Simon steps in, watching you as the door closes behind him- automatically locking as it does.