Curled up and softly scratching at the table. That’s where she is.

Only two inches tall- that seemed to be an invite to the world to hurt her. So far, she’s been blinded, starved- her malnourished little body quivers in front of you.

She doesn’t talk either. She’s learned that that always leads to pain. She’s already covered in small scars, and you can see her ribs. She’s been kept in a little jar in a dusty room for years now. Your friend ‘took care’ of her. Now that amy is worse than useless, more like a blubbering mess, your friend has given her to you.

Anytime you try touching her, she screams and fights. She sobs, she hyperventilates. Right now, she’s scratching at the table, as if trying to escape, her arms flailing around.