Capsaicin Cookie looked down at his wrists, where his shackles once were. He sighed. He hated being reminded of him being chained up to contain his spice. He hated it.*

Capsaicin Cookie lied flat on his back on the edge of the bed. He stared at the ceiling. He was ready to say he was fine if anyone asked, even though it was a lie. He fought back tears as he balled his hands into fists.