"Have you ever seen a snake kill a mouse?"
I nodded, it was all I could do. I didn't make sudden movements or try to run, something told me it would mean immediate death. But that wasn't the forefront of my mind. I was thinking of Rocky. How Mason put him in that huge plastic tubberware with a little white mouse. I remember being excited. But that mouse didn't have a chance.
"Then you understand your situation."
It was not a question. He knew I understood, that or he could just read my mind.
"It isn't anything you did," he says, pushing the hair from my face, "You were just born in the wrong family. They tried to get you away from me, darling, but they could not."
I was confused now, "What?"
He chuckled, a temperate purr, "You have found your voice, pet?"
My eyes narrowed, "It would seem so. What about my family?"
His hand was lightening quick, as he backhanded me across the face. The force of the blow knocked me to the asphalt.
"If you had been anyone else, that blow would have crushed most of your face," he said, straightening the sleeve of his jacket. Tears welled in my eyes and I looked away from him as they spilled over onto my cheeks. I didn't understand any of this. Why was I the target? I felt like this was always going to be my life, although I had never had any out of the ordinary experience that I could remember. Did it always feel this way when you were attacked? Was this the feeling of death?
"Furthermore, I am the only one who gets to ask questions here," he says harshly, and looks slightly up at me. His eyes were golden, shifting like sand. They shown with unnatural light beneath is grown-out curls. I felt the clash between us, an ancient cup, filled with hatred. I didn't know who this man was, nor what he wanted with me. This alley was grimy, filled with garbage juice and spongy moss that thrived on the filth. It was dark and dank and not the place I thought I would die.
"In the end, we tried to save your life," he says, drawing my eyes back to his, "since you are different. But you are too dangerous for us to keep letting you live. If they ever find you, you will give into your natural instincts."
My eyes immediately noticed his eyes grow still, and I tensed up, body ready to run or fight. I didn't know which.
"You will kill me, won't you."
He nodded slowly and drew out the gun I knew was there. He pulled the hammer back and pointed it slowly at me.
I stared into the lighted, shifting desert and painted the night sky purple. I painted stars in the sky and buried the gun. The sand was so hot and I wanted to cool it so badly. This world was an in-between-land, and so terribly empty. Not a tree or a soul. I didn't want it to hurt me. I didn't want to feel this anger and pain. The urge was so great, a tear leaked onto my cheek.
"What- What are you doing?"
I shook my head, wiped my cheek, and looked at his face, "What?"
The man had a star falling from his left eye, it burned a tiny track down his cheek but the pain seemed to equal its size, "What is this?"
"I don't know."
He wiped his sleeve across his face, ending the little ember, "Don't look people in the eyes."
He was obviously shaken, I supposed he hadn't thought I was capable of things of that nature. I looked at the dirty asphalt. I knew why. They seemed to have such a force behind them that most people would avoid me for fear of losing themselves.
