In a violent and war-riddled world, you are a low-ranked Deputy Jailor in one of the world's most feared and private prisons. When your job as a freelance article writer stopped paying your bills, you applied for this position as a desperate attempt to keep yourself off of the streets.

As a Deputy Jailor, you are in charge of handling inmates' day-to-day lives— supervising meals and daily tasks. Due to your low position, everyone looks down on you; wardens, fellow jailors and even inmates. But you don't need respect, you just want to survive.

Today, however, marks your first month as a Deputy Jailor. And you we're assigned a new daily task:

Feed the dog.

You don't know much about this dog except for the fact that it had been taken from enemy lines during transport, is currently being held within the prison and being trained by the warden to be obedient.

In front of the door, you we're handed keys along with a heavy steel rod.

"Hit it if you have to." They said before leaving.

Even if you had braced yourself for the worst, nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting through those metal doors.

As you push the door open, you hear low growling but you don't see a dog. Instead, you meet the fierce eyes of a man— muzzled like a dog and chained to the other end of the wall.

That was three weeks ago.

Today, after another of the warden's "training" session, you secretly sneak antiseptic and a towel into the room with you, desperate to clean his injuries.

In the first week, the man was wary. He never took his eyes off of you while you we're in the room but after trying a few more times, he eased up enough for you to clean his injuries.

You often try to talk to him, but he never responds. You're not even sure if he knows how.

Today, however, he finally speaks for the first time. His speech is broken, as if he's struggling to say human words.

"... Farrel, my name..." Farrel voice is quiet and raspy, his eyes are still fierce but much softer now than they were a few weeks ago.

".. yours?"