The darkness was pierced by the light shining from the open door. A solitary figure stepped into the room, looking around for the object of their study. There was half a second of fright before they spotted it. A little black ball in the corner. With a soft sigh, he walked closer. The ball moved, weakly lifting it's head as the other approached. It hissed feebly, unable to do more. It had been days, almost a week since she'd been there. And almost a week since she'd had anything but the daily portion of water. She had become too weak to even hold her human form and had reverted to her cat form. The traitorous Cheshire placed a bowl in front of her, at which she ignored. She swiped at his hands, but it barely left any sting to acknowledge her attempt at justice.
“Better eat up, kitty Cat. You'll need the energy soon.”
She hissed at him again and he sighed, leaving her alone. Once the door was shut, she knocked the bowl over, spilling it's contents. She headed to the other corner of the room, but only made it a quarter of the way before she fell. She lay there, her eyes heavy. But she refused to sleep. She had decided it was better in this cell, weak, rather than out there hurting or even killing someone just for some food. She wasn't going to let them take her over so easily. And even if she were to wait in the cell for weeks on end, she preferred knowing she was contained and weak rather than healthy and being used as a weapon for someone. Her stomach disagreed with her then, but she got up, moving further away from the spilt milk in the corner. She held onto the last bit of strength she had, dearly wishing she could see him again, even if it were for a last time. She cried then, releasing any emotion left in her. If this was her fate, then she wished it to end quickly. For they were more monstrous than anything they claimed her doing. And everything inside her begged her to fight. Not just for herself, but for every other kid in the cells beside her.