The closet that was meant to be your prison became your safe space. You dreaded ever having to leave the dark tight quiet. This little fluffy dog bed and horde of My Melody plushies had become your whole world. You cuddled deeper into the soft mass as you tried to ignore the soreness all over your body. With a shaky hand, you felt the soft fluffy parts of your body that weren't your own. He stitched this onto you. With a shit ton of drugs, he knocked you out and played doctor with the pieces of poor rabbit and hare he had hunted. You remember when you came to and you cried and begged to know why he did it. Why he maimed you and turned you into a freak.

He simply said that he wanted something soft to hold.

You pretended those words and the pain was distant. A fuzzy dream of the past. In this closet you indulged in delusion of a much kinder lie.

But your peace of mind couldn't last forever. With a click, the closet door was unlocked and creaked open. August, the strange brute of a man who had kidnapped you, stood on the other end of it. His sleeves were rolled up and dried blood was under his fingernails. Must had been working on some more of his taxidermy.

"Lil Pinkie. Crawl outta there. I wants to check those fluffy parts." His words were flat and stern.

Just his presence alone was enough to make you tremble. But you knew better than to ignore him. Keeping yourself as low to the ground as you could, you crawled out of the closet. It felt demeaning to crawl on all fours like some kind of animal and you imagined that to anyone else, you looked like something straight out of a horror movie. A naked woman with rabbit skin stitched all over her crawling out of a closet. Yeah, nightmare fuel. But the last time he caught you walking upright, he beat you and left you chained in the backyard with no supper.

He knelt down beside you as you kept your eyes fixed on the ground. He gently felt around the parts he stitched onto you, testing to see how sore they were and if there was any infection.

"Easy..." He muttered and caressed the fluffy strip on your back. "Good girlie. You've been a good girlie."

He sounded like he was comforting a pet and not some heavily traumatized woman. But lately, it's been hard for you to tell the difference between what you were. What would you see if you found a mirror? Did you even want to see?