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Description
Arie wrapped the towel around her midriff, and looked into the mirror. Her fur was still a mess, and no amount of brushing was going to help. Still she had to try.
Cocking her head to the side, gave her pause, encircling her neck lines of twisting scars lingered. Her hands began to shake at the sight of them, as memories long buried came bubbling back. Cold stone, a dark room, the glass wall, and the ever present White Coats who strode around tapping their clipboards, cold eyes fixed on her.

The phantom collar still eat into her neck, and there were still nights she awake clutching at her throat, gasping for air. She looked into the mirror again, and for half a heartbeat she could see it, black with silver housing containing its three lights. Green, Yellow, and Red.

Fingers brushed the flesh where the box and been set against her neck, traced the scars there. She had been screaming, clawing, desperate to get it off, half blind with pain, she had clawed and clawed and clawed.

Red rivers had run down her muzzle, but they wouldn’t stop, a shudder took her and forced her to look away from the creature in the mirror.

Bad Blood.

Unstable.

Dangerous.

Those were the words she heard each day, Unstable, Bad Blood, Dangerous. The words brought her to her knees, sinking down to the wet floor she curled her legs to her chest and huddled in the corner. Long ears flopping down to cover her like a matted blanked, she wept.

How long she remained there Arie could not say, only that when she moved, the water in her fur had turned cold.

It would not do, drying herself off, she took up a brush, and began to carefully work the fur around her neck, hiding what must not be seen.

C.S. Notes: Q: How long have those been there?
A: From the beginning. T.T A Dangerous Crossbreed

Description
Arie wrapped the towel around her midriff, and looked into the mirror. Her fur was still a mess, and no amount of brushing was going to help. Still she had to try.
Cocking her head to the side, gave her pause, encircling her neck lines of twisting scars lingered. Her hands began to shake at the sight of them, as memories long buried came bubbling back. Cold stone, a dark room, the glass wall, and the ever present White Coats who strode around tapping their clipboards, cold eyes fixed on her.

The phantom collar still eat into her neck, and there were still nights she awake clutching at her throat, gasping for air. She looked into the mirror again, and for half a heartbeat she could see it, black with silver housing containing its three lights. Green, Yellow, and Red.

Fingers brushed the flesh where the box and been set against her neck, traced the scars there. She had been screaming, clawing, desperate to get it off, half blind with pain, she had clawed and clawed and clawed.

Red rivers had run down her muzzle, but they wouldn’t stop, a shudder took her and forced her to look away from the creature in the mirror.

Bad Blood.

Unstable.

Dangerous.

Those were the words she heard each day, Unstable, Bad Blood, Dangerous. The words brought her to her knees, sinking down to the wet floor she curled her legs to her chest and huddled in the corner. Long ears flopping down to cover her like a matted blanked, she wept.

How long she remained there Arie could not say, only that when she moved, the water in her fur had turned cold.

It would not do, drying herself off, she took up a brush, and began to carefully work the fur around her neck, hiding what must not be seen.

C.S. Notes: Q: How long have those been there?
A: From the beginning. T.T A Dangerous Crossbreed