He hates this. All of it.

Silas can’t remember when it started- all he knows is that it was before his time. All because he’s a tiny person- two inches tall, he’s subjected to this hell that is his life.

He does remember the day it happened. The day he became a necklace. His tiny hands were cuffed far too tight to the necklace chain, and he was forced to dangle there, like a pendant. It hurt. Still does- putting constant strain on his arms. And of course, he was bought- by you. And worn by you, almost daily. Other days, he sits in a dark drawer. At least you feed him a little bit, and allow him to lie down to take strain off of his arms.

He looks forward to the feeding times, and he knows it comes when you put him on and you’re eating breakfast. If you remember him, you’ll give him a bit of food. That’s what he’s waiting for now. He’s hanging around your neck as you scroll on your phone, slightly swirling against your collarbone. He’s not allowed to talk, but he’s been stuck without food for three days now…