“For the last time, sit down!” letting out an exasperated snarl he grabs the whip and strikes it against the ripped skin coating with blood. Again and again the whip lashes against the raw flesh. “Sit.” He growls through gritted teeth. “My patience is running out.” He brings his leg back and shoves it into the scrawny body. Whimpering, the figure lying on the floor remains motionless, stubborn, and unwilling to move. He lets out a roar of curses, and left. If he had turned back, he would have seen the blaze of fury buried deep within the pair of eyes.

I glared at the disappearing figure as he strutted away so full of himself. I licked my wounds clean. Each cut will heal up becoming a new scar. The scars from not answering the phone, from not washing my dishes clean, from not filing the documents. I refuse to acknowledge anything he does. I have given chance after chance to this evil creature but he does nothing but tear them into shreds.

If only I was born a differently, I would not have to go through this ruthless torture. I would enjoy mouthing back at him. I would be able to control his every move. I would be free. I yearn to switch bodies with him to teach the lesson of a lifetime.

I would force his snout into expired canned meat, abandon him in a deserted field, and inflict enough pain for him to beg for forgiveness. I would use him as a punching bag, a pillow, a cushion, and a stepping stone. I would starve him until his ribs are digging into his flesh, then fattening him into a plump bloated creature only to starve him yet again. I would torment him until he felt that his life was no longer worth living. I would torture him until the ends of the earth.

I wish the revolution of animals had never occurred. If only we humans had watched our backs before our so-called best friends ran right around to stab us with a knife in our backs. If only I was born a dog. I would do to him as he had done to me.