Ava

We sit on metal chairs with our hands tied behind our backs and our feet secured to the legs of the chairs. Nathan, as usual, sits across from us on a cushioned chair, sprawled out languidly as if there wasn’t a thing to be concerned about.

He eyes us, sure we will try something at any moment. But the man was thoroughly prepared. The silver handcuffs holding my mother and I keep us in our human form and weaken us to the point of being nothing more than ...