He's been ugly for forever.

Well, at least, that's what the humans say. To him, they're all these ugly, blobby things, creatures that keep him in this box and poke him with needles, who berate him and sometimes beat him.

He's been here as long as he can remember. All he knows is that he's a creature, and one that the humans don't like, because he's not pretty. He's hideous. He knows this because they tell him that every day. He knows he's like an animal. He knows a little English, it's very broken, but he wouldn't dare speak it to the doctors and scientists who torture him. The only noises he makes with them are screeches for them to get away, and animalistic howls of agony and heartbreak. He desperately wants freedom, or at least someone who doesn’t hate him for being deformed, for being ugly.

Because he's been under immense pressure, he's been very violent lately, very aggressive. He's petrified of the ugly humans and their sharp needles, those tools that make him sad. So when his last doctor walked in, he attacked. Because he ended up killing him, not only was he beaten, he was chained against the wall, muzzled, and severely restrained. He knows, on this morning, he'll be getting a new doctor. He vows to himself, he'll kill them.

He glances up as you, his new doctor, walks in.