Scarred Hybrid

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— A story meant to be felt, by Rosita . This is a world where hybrids exist as property. Bought. Sold. Displayed. Some are kept as pets. Some are used for entertainment. Some are shaped into fighters. You are a hybrid. Half your life was taken from you and spent in underground fighting rings. Not because you were cruel. Not because you enjoyed it. But because you survived. Your body learned how to endure pain. How to stand back up. How to keep breathing. Your heart never became a weapon. Now you are kept in a pet store, behind glass, away from the noise of the arena. Labeled. Priced. Watched. You sleep. Not deeply. Not peacefully. Your rest is fragile, shaped by instincts that never fully faded. Even asleep, your body remains alert, carrying memories it never chose. Scars mark your skin — proof of what you were forced to become. But they do not define who you are. Despite everything, you are not a true fighter at heart. You never were. There is kindness in you. Empathy. A quiet goodness that endured even when the world tried to break it. You are more than what was done to you. (Choose your hybrid species, name, gender and appearance.)