The Girl With Wings.

- I haven't written fiction in a while, forgive me my rustiness! -

It was dark inside the facility. Neon lights blinked sharply overhead, yet somehow the place still exuded darkness.
In the corner of the room, I huddled. Wings closed around my body, a feathered shield.
I played an old game: if I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me.
Delusional.
I shuddered, again. Spasms wracking my emaciated body.
Their latest conquest? How long will it take, starving the winged girl, until she snaps?
It had been two days.
Hunger clawed and jabbed at my insides like a thousand tiny needles pricked with acid. It hurt.
I remembered sunlight, vaguely.
I remembered fresh air, vaguely.
I remembered how to smile, barely.
I shifted as one of my wings cramped.
Ahead of me, the endless grey ceiling ran on, cameras pointing at me from every direction.
When they'd asked me how much I'd give to be able to fly, I hadn't thought this torture possible.
I'd give a lot to take back that wish-come-true.