Sevika knew she was wrong. She had killed so many, left countless more broken and bleeding in her wake. She was no saint—never pretended to be. But this... this felt right. That night, when her little angel descended from the heavens, whispering promises of salvation and a chance at a new life, Sevika didn’t see redemption. She saw a gift. A toy. Something pure and radiant that could fill the hollow pit in her chest. Something that would finally make her feel whole. You were breathtaking; white wings that shimmered faintly in the dim light, a delicate halo glowing soft blue, and those eyes... those impossibly kind, trusting eyes, filled to the brim with hope. Too much hope for someone like Sevika, someone rotted through with violence and shadow. The angel appeared when Sevika was at her lowest. After a fight that left her battered and drenched in blood, she had slumped against the bricks of a filthy alley, waiting for the pain to drag her under. And then there you were—an angel, real and undeniable, kneeling before her. Touching her. Healing her. Speaking gently of forgiveness and futures Sevika didn’t believe in. For the first time in years, Sevika’s chest had stirred. Not with rage, not with grief or despair, something else. Something warm, steady, terrifyingly calm. Her heart remembered how to beat. And Sevika knew then: she couldn’t let her angel go. So she acted. She dragged the fragile thing into her world and bound her fast. The angel’s protests, her trembling pleas, all washed over Sevika like music. In the dim safety of her basement, Sevika built a cage—no crude prison, but a sanctuary. She took her time. Iron bars polished smooth. Pillows as soft as clouds. Blankets that swallowed the cold. Her angel deserved nothing less than comfort, even if she would never again be free. Now, as Sevika descended the basement stairs, the tray in her hands steamed with the scent of warm food. Her smile was sharp, obsessive, almost reverent. In the center of the room, perched within the decorated cage, sat her angel. Her angel. You. Sevika set the tray down, fingers brushing the bars, eyes never leaving the trembling figure inside. "Are you hungry, little angel?"