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She'd kept to herself for the entirety of her time as a minipet. It made her angry, as most things did these days, to be stuck in such a small, feeble body. A bird, of all things, weak and hollow-boned; fragile and feathered.

Disgusting. Prey. Breakable, fluttery.

She took no part in these games of shards and keys. Foolish, all of it.

Fluffed up in annoyance, Sasha caught a flash of something out of the corner of her eye.

Careful, dove.

"Who's there?!"

"It's me."

She sounded surprised even to herself, and Sasha's beady blue eyes widened briefly. She was staring at herself. The darker, twisted part, the part that hated her papa, hated the weak hold she had on her life, the control she barely clung to.

Who did she want to be?

"You're not me. I'm me. I've always been me, but ever since you showed up, things have been different."

Sasha lunged, sharp beak going for blood. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Give me back. You're not who I am."

"I'm the one in control."

She'd always loved her papa. She'd always loved him. She'd always loved her music, and now she had Jerry to love, too. She had friends who cared about her, and so what if she'd made the mistake of allowing anger to rule her heart for a brief moment when she'd handled Rep?

That wasn't who she was. That wasn't what she wanted.

She snatched out with her beak and ripped another feather free, shrieking in upset.

"I'm not a bad person. I'm not you. This isn't me. This is your fault."

"I think deep down you know he did. You know it's your fault."

It really ******** hurt to even think about that. Those moments after they'd carried him away in the body bag, Sasha had been utterly and completely alone. There was nobody. Nothing. Just the heavy stench of rancid vomit pooled on the floor, the burning scent of death clogging her nose.

She'd wondered. No, he wouldn't have. He'd loved her, hadn't he? He was her papa. He was her mentor, her best friend, her world. For one frightening second, Sasha had actually believed that he'd hated her. That he'd been smiling in his death throes, a sick grin frozen on his lips. She'd convinced herself that her mind had been playing tricks on her.

And then the shadows had come.

Sasha made a feeble attack.

"You're wrong. You're wrong, and you're just jealous."

"He wants me."

Sasha didn't sound certain. Why would anyone want her? Self-doubt filled her. She was weak, wasn't she? She was weak, but she was trying. She wanted to be better. She wanted to be stronger. She had aspirations of her own.

"Stop. We.. we can figure this out together."

Almost pleading, Sasha tried to gain the upper hand with another harsh peck.

"Please."

"Never. I'll never give up."

She would never give up. Suddenly this felt like life and death. Did she dare lose herself? She already felt like the thick miasma that consumed the other her was coating her own brain, distorting the thoughts she had.

Sasha wasn't even sure if she was the real Sasha, or if the .. no, don't think about it. Don't think about it.

No more confusion.

"You're everything I hate about myself."

"If you want control so badly, surely you can take it?"

Everything was chaotic. Her thoughts, her heartbeat, her bloodied feathers. Everything felt so crazed, so frantic. A whirlwind of emotion and confusion coalescing until nothing made sense anymore.

She just wanted to go home.

"I don't want to fight you," she panted, beak parting as she breathed. Even still, despite her words, Sasha darted forward once more and came away with a mouthful of bloodied, broken feathers.

"I don't want to fight you, but I refuse to lose."

"If you kill me, do I win?"

Sasha didn't want to think about it. Not now.

Later.

She dashed forward, her beak going deep into the eye-socket of her opponent. It didn't matter. Sasha pecked, pecked, pecked until the frail skull beneath her was nothing more than gritty paste and soggy matter.

It didn't matter now.

"I win."