CHAPTER 1: FIRST SIGHT
My head hurt. My stomach hurt. My chest hurt. Everything hurt.
The bright lights pounded my eyes like a hammer, each strike causing a new flash of pain across my eyelids. My eyes were closed, like they had been for a while, and I could just about make out hazy images behind them: blurred figures of men, scientists, discussing the next procedures they would take. Fractured sentences were coming in now; I couldn't get a hold on them – the strings of words passing from one ear and out of the other, my tired brain making no sense of the muddle.
There was a movement, and I felt the slight jolt as someone picked up my poor battered body with an indescribable touch. It was as if they were being… gentle. The foreign word sounded strange, even spoken in my mind. I was only 4, but still, never once have I been handled with care. The scientists see me as not even an animal, but simply like an inanimate object, incapable of feeling emotions, pain. They didn't care what they did to me, the sadist beings: who took me apart like a kit and felt no remorse.
There was the sound of a cage door being swung open, and I was carefully lain inside. Though I still didn't open my eyes, I could tell without looking that this was a new cage, a new room. The floor felt different, and there was a different smell. Something other than the antiseptic and chemicals, something sweet… was it sad that I knew my cage by touch and smell alone? Well if it was, I didn't care. I had spent my entire pitiful life in that cage, and yet I couldn't even stand up in it.
Continuing on that train of thought, I slowly stretched my legs out in front of me. I couldn't stifle the gasp of pain that came to me almost immediately. Definitely a bone or two broken, I confirmed in my head. But they would heal eventually, as did all of my many injuries I have sustained. Though some scars will never heal…
I took the fact that my feet didn't come into contact with the strong metal bars as soon as I stretched them as a good thing. Deciding that it was time to check my new "cage" out, I braced myself and opened my eyes a slit.
And immediately wished I hadn't.
The force of light that I hadn't seen in for so long nearly sent me keeling over. I brought my hands to my eyes – wincing as they jarred a broken rib – in an attempt to block it all out. After the moment passed, I tried it again. The stinging sensation of new light came once again, though more bearable this time. I repeated the procedure several times and managed to open my eyes halfway – enough to make out shapes and colours. Opening my eyes all the way, I looked straight ahead to see…
The figure of a small boy.
He had the same hospital gown on as me, but his were trousers and a t-shirt as opposed to my hospital-type-gown. It may as well have been nothing with the way it was torn and shredded. Looking closer at his face, which was almost completely obscured with that long, black hair of his, I realised with a start that his eyes were trained on me. They were watching me as if I were the evil one, coming to hurt him. Desperate to prove myself to him, I wrapped a hand around a bar, drawing myself closer, to see him better.
Quick as a flash, he withdrew himself, pressing himself as hard as he could into the back of his cage. I could see his form visibly shaking. Those black eyes bore into mine, completely devoid of any emotion.
I slowly withdrew myself too, to show him I didn't mean any harm. It took a while, but slowly his shaking decreased… it didn't stop altogether though. I took this time to examine him. The boy had midnight black hair, and equally dark eyes to match. It looked as though his skin tone was a sort of tan, olive colour though it was hard to tell with all the scars, blood and bruises marring his body. His arms poked out the edges of his t-shirt. He was thin and frail looking; we all were, no one ever gave us food in this place, only enough to keep us alive. It was odd, but it was almost as though they didn't want us to have any energy, as if they knew we were strong enough to escape, if we ever had the chance… but it was impossible. This place was the only place I've ever known – I'd only seen the outside world a few times in my life, but it always scared me. How something was so big and wide, I'd never know. But when I look at the sky, a strange yearning overcomes me, like I shouldn't be here, I should be up there. It was stupid, I knew, but anywhere was better than this place. Any place at all.
A small movement caught my eye – the boy had fallen asleep. I was glad, which meant I wouldn't have to look at his eyes anymore; they scared me a lot. It was obvious that he'd experienced a lot of pain, but none of that showed in his eyes. In fact, nothing showed at all. If I didn't already know, I would have said he was a machine – couldn't feel anything. Or maybe he was just at that point beyond caring what happened to him anymore. Shuddering, I turned onto my side and tried to get some sleep of my own.
'It isn't your problem'. I thought to myself firmly. That boy is not of concern to you.
*3 weeks later*
Three weeks had passed (I knew this as I counted the shadows my cage made against the wall), and no major events happened. The boy hasn't spoken a murmur, nor made a sound since I had first laid eyes on him. Neither did I. What was the point of it anyway? There was nothing to say, and I hadn't used my voice longer than I hadn't used my eyes that I wasn't even sure if I could speak anyway. What was it good for? Apart from screaming, but that never seemed to have an effect on the scientists.
I marked this time interval for a reason: something actually happened today, something important. In a lab, somewhere, the very first human-lupine mutant was created. And do you know who the target practise was? Me. And the boy.
We were literally grabbed from our cages and thrown by the scruffs of our necks. I at first struggled ferociously, my wounds had healed, but there were scabs: they reminded me what would happen if I didn't put up a fight. Then I realised I was lying on a dirt field. Outside. At first, the Sun was blinding and I felt that I could hardly keep my eyes open; the reaction to squint was too instinctive. Also, it was so noisy! I didn't know how people could stand it, the constant birds, the rustle of leaves from a wood far away, and the sound of the wind. Back in the cages, there wasn't a sound – the doors were always sealed shut, as were the cages. The boy and I never talked anyway. But the smells! Anywhere to get away from the stench of alcohol and sedatives – this actually smelt right, like what I should smell every day. The fresh earth beneath my feet smells of nature, and clean air. But it was odd, the lab that the scientists kept us in was isolated from everything – the closest wood must have been miles away. Why was it I could smell and hear everything so clearly then? Taking in a deep breath, I wondered when the last time was that I had ever felt so alive. The sky and being outside though could not have made up for what happened next.
One second we were all alone, me and the boy (who I noticed was taking in everything I had just described too). And the next, a man was there.
It stared at us. We stared at him.
Then what happened next was like a scene out of a horror movie. His lips pulled back over his teeth, revealing sharp and dangerous looking canines. He grinned at us. Slowly, his features seemed to stretch, his nose and mouth being pulled until it became a snout, his hands turned into paws, and claws grew out of his fingernails. Hair sprouted all over his body, masses of black stuff and he shot up in stature and in size too. It was a wolf man. A man wolf. Something that would erase us from the Earth from where we stood. An Eraser.
I shot a panic stricken glance at the boy, but he wasn't even looking at me, but at the Eraser.
It was charging towards us – yes, it has now become an it; the thing doesn't deserve to be called anything remotely human.
My reflexes were sluggishly slow; I had never faced anything like this before. Mazes, treadmills, experiments, crazy doctors and scientists, but nothing like this.
Its claws came out and slashed a big long gash, all the way from my arm to my elbow. It took a moment for the pain to come, and when it did, I desperately wished it hadn't. For the first time in months, I made a noise.
I screamed.
My voice, being hoarse with disuse, broke halfway and I ended up gasping, clutching my arm to me. The blood was starting to seep into the rest of my gown.
This seemed to snap the boy out of the trance he'd been in ever since the Eraser first morphed. He jumped out of the way just as the claws slashed down in the air he'd been in seconds before. Wheeling around, it spotted me and came charging again.
The pain in my arm made me run fast, panic and fear driving me. But the courtyard wasn't big, and it was covered with barbed mesh at least 20 feet high. There was no way I could escape. It chased me round and round the court, until I doubled over gasping. Flinging myself against the wire, not caring if I got scratched, I desperately shook it, looking for some hole, some sort of escape that I could get free from. The scientists were watching, I knew, I could see the cameras. Surely they would intervene? I mean they caused me pain, experimented on me, cut me open, but never went as far as to really kill me. But what if they did? What if they wanted me dead? There was no escape so I might as well face the facts. The Eraser had me trapped in a corner and was advancing on me slowly, as if taking the time to draw it out. But as it was coming closer and closer, I saw a flash of something that gave me a glimmer of hope. The Eraser turned around, but it was too late, the boy pounced on him. Drawing his fist back, I watched as he socked the Eraser right in the stomach, and then again in the chest. In my fight, I had forgotten all about him, but now I saw the very first emotion I'd ever seen on his face, in his eyes. Determination. Whether it was for me, or for him, or for the Eraser, it made him faster and stronger. But not strong enough. I watched in horror as the Eraser tore him right down, cuffing him in the head, and clawing at his sides.
'NO!' I yelled as he went down in a huff of air, lying very still on the ground. He looked dead, and with the amount of blood that was pouring out of him, he would be very soon. It was strange, I hardly knew this boy, yet I felt a very strong sense of protection over him, though I suppose he didn't know me either, but yet he had undoubtedly saved my life.
As the Eraser knelt down to finish him off, I tensed, ready to spring, but there was no need. The boy's fist came out of nowhere, travelling right towards the Eraser's head. The following events seemed to happen in slow motion. As the fist went flying, the canine opened its mouth. I watched horror struck as the boys' fist went
Straight.
Into.
Its.
Mouth.
I screamed again, but this time, I was joined by another voice.
'NO! STOP! DON'T KILL HIM!' It was one of the lab scientists – he was red in the face after seemingly getting here in a rush, and called a few others over to wrestle the Eraser off the boy. Another group of doctors/ scientists rushed over, no doubt to get to the boy, but I got there first. His face was ashen white, and his blood was beginning to pool in a puddle around him. He looked as though he was very tired, but fought to keep his eyes open. He looked at me, with a million emotions in his eyes – it was like a flood gate bursting open. I was wrong, he wasn't a machine; he had just fought to keep his feelings down a long time ago. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't place, but it made me feel even guiltier, if possible. Before I could open my mouth to say something – anything, a pair of scientists came and dragged me away. I reached out and grabbed his hand as I left, and he pushed something sharp and hard into it, wrapping my fingers around the object.
The scientists dragged him away in a stretcher. I had to wait for the scientists to fix up my bloody arm and lock me back in my cage again before I could find out what it was.
There, lying in the palm of my hand was a single, bloody fang.
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