A Mockingbird In The Crows Nest

A Steady Beep Of A Heart Monitor

He whimpered, shaking his head as his breathing picked up. "Please..I-I've been good. Please don't bind them. I haven't done anything wrong, please.."

There's silence for a long moment, and Tommy hiccups weakly. When nothing happens, Tommy panics more and continues. "P-Please.. Please , I-I haven't done anything wrong..Please don't bind my wings again. I'll be good.."

There's even more silence, then the second voice sighs as the hand pulls out of his hair. He chirps sadly at the loss of contact, and someone else replaces the hand with something cold and smooth. It feels like it's shaped like a hand- but it doesn't feel like a normal one. Odd.

"Tom-"

"No!" He shouts, his voice hoarse and he pulls. He's cut off by something digging into his skin and he panics even more. There's something on his wrists keeping him strapped down to- a table? Is he on a table? He can't tell. The beeping gets louder as he tries to yank his wrists away. He needs to get away. Why is he being held down? He was good, wasn't he?? Why was he being punished??

Tommy keeps pulling against the restraints; desperately trying to open his wings and shove away the two people he can feel hovering around him. But he feels weak. His back is sore and his wings feel like dead weight behind him. Desperate noises pour from his lips at the thought of already being drugged so they could bind them. "P-Please! I'll be good! I swear!"

Someone shouts something, and there are suddenly more footsteps pouring into the room. Then, familiar rubber-glove-covered hands start holding him down, and Tommy's brain flies into a frenzy.

He thrashes violently; pushing his feathers to stand on end and rattle threateningly as he kicks out to try and get away from the hands. His death rattle shakes him down to his core, but he doesn't care. It's all he can think to do to get these people to let him go.

But as he continues to hiss and rattle at the hands holding him down, it starts to hurt . His throat is scratchy- like he hasn't had water in days. And his tongue feels slow and heavy in his mouth as he stumbles over the more delicate parts of his death rattle. But surely it gets the point across? Surely it's enough for everyone to know he's unhappy. Surely it means they'll stop, right? Maybe the first voice will recognize his rattle and make everyone stop. They seemed nice.

He wishes they'd hurry up, though.

"Mockingbird, you need to calm down!" The second voice says, and Tommy's hiss gets louder as a hand lands on his forehead. "You're safe, but you need to relax-"

"No!" He shouts back, snapping his teeth at whoever's touching him; making the hand disappear quickly. "You can't! I- I won't fucking let you!"

"Someone get the laughing gas!" The voice calls as new hands land on his shoulders. "We need to get him under before he hurts himself!" A single pair of footsteps swiftly leave the room, and Tommy struggles even more as tears pour down his cheeks. They're going to put him under. They're going to put him to sleep and bind his wings and there's nothing he can do about it.