4th chapter. READ PLEASE OKAY THANKS.
Chapter IV: Daryl VS The Cows
My mother got married when she was 20 years old. She had worked on a farm all her life and seemed to be perpetually tired. My dad was always in his lab working. He was extremely anti-social and didn't allow anyone in there, thus leaving my mom to take care of me all day.
When I wasn't perfectly quiet when she was trying to sleep, she would lock me up in the barn with the cattle. I didn't mind this too much, until one day when I was 8, a cow started trying to eat my hair and another one starting licking my arms. I was terrified. When I tried to get away, the second cow bit my arm very hard and I screamed. My father barged into the barn and told me to be quiet, the neighbors would think someone was commiting a murder. I used that opportunity to race out of the barn.
After that, I would always hide in my closet where my mother couldn't find me—I didn't want to set foot in that barn ever again. My dad couldn't even get me to put food in their bins. I would curl up in my closet and have nightmares about cows bursting through the walls and eating me.
When I was older, I was mostly over my fear of cows, and began graphing out experiments with them as the test subjects. This quickly became an obsession—I became fascinated and constantly was trying to think of more and more ways to torture them. My classmates called me crazy.
In college I was ready to begin my experiments, but all of my former classmates had become farmers, and refused to sell me any cows.
So when I saw a cow out in the field of an empty farm, every other thought flew out of my head.
I turned around and saw a hunched man with thick eyebrows looking at me. I looked back at the cows, and then realized there was a hunched man with thick eyebrows looking at me. I whirled around.
"D-don't sneak up on me!" I cried. He didn't say anything, but stepped into the field and milked the cow.
"D-do you own this farm?" The man shook his head.
"A friend of mine that lives in the city owns it. He has me take care of it when he can't make it. He's mostly busy looking after his 5 year old son Jack." That said, he took the cow into the barn.
I cursed the whole way home, and I never curse.
I was in a bad mood for a few days—I hadn't wanted to have to think about cows. But now that they were there, I couldn't think of anything else. I paced around the field every day. I think that the hunched man (I still hadn't gotten his name) suspected something, because every time I arrived he would put the cow back inside the barn.
I dreamt often of hooking a cow that resembled Carter to high volt electrodes.