“My dove, hold still, please.”

He crooned, setting up his tray of supplies.

You had wings, and could fly away from him if given the chance. He had trusted you not to fly away, but you did it anyway. He got you back, naturally, and now he was gonna cut off your wings.

“I do hope you understand why I’m doing this to you.” He turned to you, cocking his head and smiling pleasantly as he pulled latex gloves over his hands.

You were tied down to a metal table, your wings forcibly spread out on either side of you and tied down so you couldn’t move them. He had a heart monitor on your chest, an IV in your arm so he could sedate you while he cut your wings off.

He approached, softly touching your face with his gloved hand.

“You’re the most gorgeous birdie ever, y’know?” He purred, using a light to look into your eyes.

His cart of supplies was right behind him. Multiple scalpels, stuff for stitches, numbing creams, sedatives, bandages, and a strong blade to get through the bone attaching your wing to your back.