The scream pierced the bright room and wound its way through the ears of the tall humans sipping their coffee. Freya watched them ignore her. The frustration welled in her small stomach, which was still not filled with sweets. The unfairness stabbed at her eyes, making them fuzzy with water. From the bottom of her nappy-clad bowels the next outburst pushed its way up, through her body, rippling at her internals and out of her wide mouth, now with a full set of milky teeth.
The piercing roar echoed around the clean walls. More tall humans turned their heads in her direction. They could plainly see she was strapped into her chair with wheels, Lolly the sheep resting on her knees, and, most importantly, the lack of any sweet based objects which she so desperately craved. Why were they being so cruel? What had she done to them? Is this what being alive means? Deprivation? Denial? Languishing for hours, days, months on end in various sitting positions while the tall humans with their sweet purchasing abilities watched her torment.




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