Dan woke up with the weight of the world on his head. His vision swam and his body trembled as cold metal brushed against his frail skin. Looking down in panic, he saw a doctor- dressed awkwardly stereotypically, like he had seen on TV- examining his stomach, the magnifying glass making his scars prominent and contorted. It was only a small burn mark, something that proved it happened. Nothing more. But, under the dark stare, it suddenly felt like so much more.

And what were they examining the burn mark for?

Had it stopped his work?

Where was he again?

The training room. He recognised that, at last, as his vision slowly became more astute over minutes of quiet chatter and medical jargon he didn't have the concentration to understand- or the education.

He picked out the few he could.

'Anorexia'.

'Starvation'.

'Treatment'.

He winced at each one, gaining the doctor's attention over time- the tight bun on her head, stretching her face back revealing the flaky foundation after days of wear. The woman didn't look like she got much sleep.

She pursed her lips, the red lipstick flaking off too- the dryness of her lips made him squirm as he remembered what it felt like first-hand. His must have been worse, his was caused by dehydration and not just neglect.

'Are you awake, little guy?' The nickname made him gag, despite the soft tone. The woman certainly meant no harm. She was young, he could tell, but naive and ageing far earlier than she should have been. Stress. Dan was having the same except his was due to far worse circumstances. That couldn't devalue her struggle, though, and with that, he tried to be as polite as possible. This girl meant no harm and was trying to help.

Phil flashed through his mind.

'What's happening?' He slurred, the art of moving his mouth much harder than expected. He suddenly noticed the dryness of his throat and mouth, what had happened since he last...

Since what? He couldn't remember any recent events. Darkness, he remembered that- the black spots in his vision. And then, oh, the realisation hit him.

He had passed out.

Whilst performing.

In front of a crowd.

His body tensed, his back arching forwards, away from the cold metal of the inspection table. He wondered why they didn't use a proper hospital bed. Oh, wait, he remembered- they were animals too, weren't they?

Dan had almost forgotten his own struggles whilst trying to make light of others. He sighed, his body giving up and collapsing back down, despite the fear of punishment.

He didn't have the energy for this.

Anorexia.

Was this the lack of food he had been eating? But anorexia was when you did that to lose weight right?

Why was he suddenly hearing the words 'control'?

The panic seized him again as his body recovered, this time far more violently as he pushed himself off the bed and down to the floor, with little energy to stand on his two legs, letting him fall.

But, unfortunately, his plan barely had time to play through. As soon as his arms had pushed himself up- with far more effort than it should have taken- he was being pinned back down again by two nurses he hadn't quite noticed earlier.

Surely he should have known there were others, the doctor wasn't just talking to nobody, even if there wasn't anything he heard that indicated somebody was talking back.

The confusion distorted his thoughts, challenging his own thoughts as the world began to blur again. 'Dan? Dan, are you listening to me?' He hadn't noticed the girl talking, watching the boy and the girl- the nurses- fussing about needles and medicines, hoping that none of them were going near him.

'Huh?' He turned sluggishly, his words still weak as his head rolled down, nearly hitting the metal with a crash if it weren't for the doctor's gentle hand holding him up.

'Dan, I said you're in the training room whilst we assess you. You passed out. Do you remember?' He nodded weakly, trying to forget the consequences of doing so. He had been told at some point, hadn't he? He had been told that sleeping wasn't allowed.

Was passing out under the same thing? Surely it was, it must have scared a lot of people. His mind flashed back to Phil again, had Phil seen? He hoped not, Phil wouldn't be able to take it.

For all his problems, Dan was worried for Phil. He saw how broken he looked at the sight of him. It made Dan feel so much worse and also feel so much better. Phil cared...but Phil cared too much.

Dan was worried about what Phil would do, something irrational no doubt.

'Dan, I want you to tell me about your eating habits.' The woman talked slowly as if Dan were a child and not a fully-grown adult. He was surprised at all that she was even talking to him, at least she wasn't so stupid that she didn't think he could understand her. Well, in this situation, maybe he couldn't but he had to blame the- what was it that was wrong with his head?- problem and not his own lack of education.

'I eat.' That was not the answer that he was supposed to give and he could tell but he was too afraid of what she would say if he said he didn't. Then again, she knew by now, didn't she?

Anorexia. She had already diagnosed him, even if he didn't believe it. He didn't have an eating disorder, he couldn't. He had lived on the streets for weeks, months even, scouring for food. And then, as if they were his clearest memories, he remembered the times when he gave up. When he stopped eating. When he thought he was better off.

He had called it being suicidal.

Now, he had to believe his instinct. Control. It's all about control.

'Dan, I want you to tell me the truth.' The girl urged, her blue eyes widening, releasing some pressure from the blonde bun on her head. The blue eyes were all too familiar, such an intimidatingly similar shade to Phil's. Not dark blue nor was it a very light blue. Just blue. Phil's blue.

'I eat when told.' Dan spoke and it was true. He did. And that wasn't very often. On most occasions, the food was thrown out and left for any of them to devour. They had learnt to take shifts rather than ravenously race towards it- that's what they probably wanted but they wouldn't give in. They would show their sophistication. They were not animals.

'How often is that?' Dan didn't want to say that his point in the rota was so that he ate weekly and not daily. Three meals a week, not three meals a day. They fed the Neko inclosure twice a week meaning he was eating far less than the rest.

Yet, they were all starving. So, what was Dan?

'Not often.' He whispered, his voice hoarse and unsteady. He didn't want to speak but he understood that the consequences may be even worse if he didn't. This doctor may have had a nice smile but she was naive enough to follow orders. Like the rest of them, she didn't see Dan as human and in her eyes, punishment was fair.

Punishment was never fair but at least with an animal, they are not conscious of their own self. Dan was.

'You have to eat!' The woman was turning a bit frantic, she had probably been told that if any Neko died on her watch, she would be fired immediately. All the staff probably were. Nekos were the trophies of the zoo, for one to die would be a great loss in customers and reputation. 'If not, punishment will have to be dished out.' All Dan could think was that he was thankful that she was talking in the future tense.

He wasn't getting punished...yet.

'You won't get punished for what happened but we will have to treat you and if this happens again, there will be severe consequences.' The words sounded awkwardly rehearsed on her lips as if she had spent days preparing to say those words. He wondered what other words they pumped through her.

She wasn't speaking for herself, clearly. She looked like a little girl who was repeating a bad word that she had heard her big brother said not a doctor- or was it vet?- who was treating a patient, an important one at that.

'You will have to be moved to the medical wing for now which will mean the others in the exhibit will have to work harder but as soon as you're back on track, everything can be back to normal.' She smiled as if she didn't know she was blackmailing someone. She probably didn't. The words were as rehearsed as the rest of them. She wasn't even listening to them. She said them with such innocence.

She didn't realise how painful what they did was, did she? Dan couldn't hold it against her, though, not many people did. Phil must have been one of the few and even he didn't really know. He could only guess.

The only people who really knew his pain were all the Nekos that were being forced into zoos across the globe. Dan didn't want to think about it, their almost extinct species being forced into zoos not for protection but for performance- as if they wanted their species to die.

They probably did.

They had to.

Dan was getting more morbid by the minute. He nodded, anyway, accepting her words, hoping the medical ward was much nicer than this dank room and hoping that he may have a bed for the first time in days.

He hadn't been in the zoo long and he was still adjusting to sleeping on the cold marble, especially in his human form. Whilst the other Nekos had control over their cat form and were able to sleep in it, Dan was barely able to keep it up. The strength it took was unimaginable and only made the diet hit him harder. He didn't eat a moderate amount but for the work he did, it just wasn't enough.

Dan was moved to the ward the next day, after sleeping throughout the day and night with no energy left to remain in consciousness. He was exhausted, to say the least. They had gotten him eating again but still not enough and the food was as bland as what he had found on the streets. He may have been part cat but that did not mean he loved fish, raw fish.

Dan found himself missing the sloppy ready meals that Phil made for him. Even though the Indian curries didn't always sit well with him and the oddly crispy pasta felt odd under his teeth, it was still a delicacy that he had not had in a long time.

He was back to his old diet. It wasn't helping him pull through.

The medical ward was as bland as the training room. The clinical white lights pierced his vision, leaving strained purple blotches each time he blinked. The bed, although more comfortable than marble, only made it so he fidgeted that bit more than usual, unable to find a comfortable position on the thin, lumpy mattress. He didn't want to guess what it was stuffed with.

If it was stuffed at all.

The doctor was in and out all week. In the seven days he stayed, he was fed three large portions a day. He puked many of them up and was punished for many of them. Each puke was another electric shock which Dan was surprised to find didn't cause more sickness. At least, not after a while. The first day was the hardest, the second close behind but as the routine fell into place, the fat returned to his bed and the doctor's returned to their usual, friendly manner.

Dan couldn't strip their cruel grimaces from his mind as they watched him puke into a bucket before pressing the big red button: buzz.

On day seven, they revealed he would be released that evening. Only once he had finished his third meal. All of which had been raw fish. Or, once, when they had tried to feed him cat food. He took the punishment for not eating that rather gladfully. Part cat did not mean full cat, there was a difference they were unwilling to look at.

The words anorexia and control became a running theme. They didn't want to diagnose Dan with any sort of mental illness as if it was impossible for him to have one. Of course, Neko's couldn't be sad or else they wouldn't lock them up.

Naive.

He was thrown back in the cage after the day had ended. Literally, thrown. The guards had held him by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him along the corridor as Dan tried to scramble to his feet and threw him in. The doctors weren't there to help and Dan doubted they would.

He was back to the cage, the glass, open cage. He was back to sleeping on the marble floor. That night, he didn't sleep at all, staring at the light in the ceiling that shone just like the ones in the medical ward. He didn't answer the questions that the others asked them. Why was prominent.

Dan thought of Phil that night. Dreaming of their life together. He missed Phil and only now was it sinking in. He could distract himself with the pangs of hunger and trick himself into believing he had control but he didn't. He was an object to them.

Only Phil made him feel like something more.

Because Phil was kind.

Kinder than any other person he had met.

Phil could be irritable, angry or anything because that's what it meant to be human but Dan never failed to see the kindness in him. Phil was his rock, the thing that kept him from falling. He was safe with Phil. And now he barely had him. The thread between them was fraying, splitting at the middle, on the verge of falling apart.

And Dan was tugging it.

Tugging without even knowing it.

But Phil, Phil was clever. Phil was taking a step forward for every step Dan took back because Phil was on the winning side. Phil had the confidence. Phil had the determination. Because Phil wasn't trapped. Phil was free.

Phil wasn't an object.

He wasn't an animal.

word count: 2370

published: 28.10.17