Kris lay on their bed, shrouded in dim moonlight, their face buried beneath the pillow.

Tonight—just like the night before—they had torn you from their chest and locked you away in the birdcage.

You.

That bright, heart-shaped glow pulsing behind cold metal bars.

They hated you—for being here. For controlling them. For turning their life into a game.

They didn’t care if you felt for them. Because to you, that’s all this is. A story to shape. A puppet to steer. And You play them like a character.