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I'm your puppy. I have a long chain attached to your apartment wall in such a way it gives me ample access to the rest of the space, even the balcony nowadays. The chain only stops me right at the exit's threshold.

There's nothing to complain about within the arrangement, I'm treated like royalty and I've made quick progress with my training ever since you picked me up. In fact it was a little eerie how amicable I was about this. My first night I settled in comfortably on the hard, uncomfortable floor of my new kennel and fell asleep with bruises caved into my body and a small smile on my face that has yet to leave.

Day by day, I clean and tidy and practice whatever little hobby I've been given access to due to my good behavior. When you finally come home I'm excitedly waiting for you, sniffing you all over to catch a glimpse of the things taken from me. I follow your heels and listen to you talk about your schedule, your work, appointments, and errands. I don't make a peep in return but I listen intently and slowly blink when our eyes happen to meet.

Today you got me a cookbook about baking cakes. I hug it tightly with stars in my eyes and take them to the trunk at the end of your bed that holds all my precious belongings.

I make you dinner and later in the night you shave my head and bath me. I am endlessly still and perfect. You grope and molest me in the tub and I am so, so grateful.

Since I've been so good and so precious, I get to finally sleep on your bed with you. I don't say a word but my entire body shakes uncontrollably with excitement. I stand by your bed, nude except for the heavy collar around my neck, cold chain flowing down my ribbed back almost teasing my exposed skin. You sweetly coax me onto the plush mattress, you can tell I'm hesitant.

I cuddle against you with an eagerness, the more you pull me in the more I lick and kiss your face, even going as far as to nip your nose, just like a proper puppy. Eventually you command me to settle and I do, you drift off perfectly content with your pet wrapped neatly in your arms. Your mind spins slowly, until it stops.

In the morning I have disappeared to make breakfast. You lazily crawl out of bed and wander towards the smell.

As you cross into the hallway however, you're shocked to find a complete mess. The walls wear long straight, horizontal gashes and the carpet has been shredded. The bathroom looks completely ransacked. Bottles of soap and broken plastic organizers strewn through the hall. Ceramic soap dish shattered in the sink. Pill bottles cast out across the floor. One of the cabinet doors below is missing, completely wrenched off its hinges. You are in disbelief, it looks like your home has been burglarized.

In the haze, you almost miss the gaping hole in the wall. The absence is circular, as if the chunk has been excised. Dust covers the torn floor below it. This is where puppy's chain was attached.

When you turn the corner into the living room, you can't help but gasp. Everything that could be broken, is. The entire room is coated with glass, fabric, stuffing, wood chips, bits of carpet, and stark spots of blood. The missing cabinet door from the bathroom is lodged into the flat screen, like a pencil pushed through a sheet of paper. The gashes in the hallway walls snake around into here as well and make a striped design. In the middle of the floor is the anchor to the chain, dry wall cookie cut around it.

You rush into the kitchen for any type of answer but find me, working away. Fried eggs, pancakes, sausage, fruit salad, it's a beautiful spread amongst the destruction. I am still nude, chain tailing behind me. The only thing different from the sweet, obedient dog you fell asleep with is the thin, horizontal cuts covering every single inch of my body. My face, the palms of my hands, nothing has been spared. My feet are in especially rough condition. Broken plates and glass have dug their way through my soles, painting the kitchen floor red.

The strained sob that exits your throat pulls me from my concentration and I turn to you with a spatula in hand. I peacefully blink at you with my small smile, stop what I'm doing, and start to trek towards you. Every step makes a terrible squelch, my legs almost buckle beneath me but my expression doesn't change. As I struggle to reach you, I start to pant and drool.

You rush around the kitchen bar and break for the front door, only to find it nailed shut. You attempt to pry it open, foot planted against the wall, but there are nails on top of nails keeping this thing shut. There is no way to escape me. My hands slither up your shirt from behind. My skin is hot to the touch and horribly inflamed from the cuts. You shriek and whip around to push me away. I wrestle you to the ground and wrap my arms around you with a shocking amount of force. You flail and hit me in the head multiple times and I let out a dumb, pleasure filled laugh.

My hips grind onto any part of you I can pin down long enough. In between my ragged breathing, you hear me quietly mumble "I love you," over and over again. The first thing I've ever said to you since my capture. I lick and kiss your face eagerly, even going as far as to tear your nose off.