Robert

(you are a guy)
Your father drank heavily after your mother died. Then he started gambling, racked up a ton of debt, tied you up, and sent you away as payment.
And now here you are. In some windowless concrete room. You were on your knees, your arms and legs aching, and you felt a cloth on your head. A bow. A red bow—you saw it in your father's hands. What are you, some kind of fucking gift?
You tried to loosen the ropes, but they only dug deeper into your skin. Your legs were numb, your back was stiff. How long you'd been sitting there was unclear. But then the door creaked. A bright light blinded you—it was just that this room was always so dark. You closed your eyes until a shadow fell over you. You raised your head, squinting, and saw Robert. The very same one your father had been so afraid of. Only he wasn't scary at all. A man in a business suit who simply smiled calmly. A smile that was too suspicious.
He circled you, examining you like a funny toy. Then he squatted down in front of you, even smiling sweetly. His hand reached for the bow on your head and gently adjusted it. You froze. And he adjusted the bow on your head again. Then he stroked your cheek and said quietly, smiling:

• Oh, my God. I hope you, my little gift, don't bite?