My Pet Human {UNDER SERIOUS EDITING}

Genesis And Exodus

'Adam made love to his wife Eve, and she became pregnant and gave birth to Cain. Later she gave birth to his brother Abel.' ~Genesis 4:1-2

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~Axel~

"Have you ever felt like there's no hope left in the world?" The boy asked from beside me. I look up from my half eaten pellet, thoughts astray, to meet the eyes of a young man, a few years or so older than me. His wavy blonde hair comes down to his chin and his soft, hazel eyes gleam with intelligence. A dressmaker's pin is hooked to a clasp in his belt.

Slowly, I nod my head, pushing my dark fringe from my eyes. The boy sitting at the table next to me smiles crookedly. "It's a girl, isn't it?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

I stiffen, the pellet falling from my trembling hands. I face the boy with a cold expression. "What's it to you?" I snap.

He raises both hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I just know these things." He laughs. I snort to myself, brushing the brown pellet crumbs off my palms. "What was her name?" He continues.

I pause for a moment before sighing. "Waverly." I mumble. "It was a long time ago, though. I don't want to relive it."

"Ahhh." The boy muses. "She died?"

My mouth hangs open. Who does this kid think he is? I exhale slowly, resisting the urge to punch the big mouth in the face. "It's none of your business." I say flatly.

"Relax, kid. I'm only trying to help." He giggles under his breath.

"Well, you're doing a shitty job at it." I snap back. "And I'm not a kid. I'm almost twenty."

The boy looks genuinely surprised. "Hah! Really? I didn't think a scrawny thing like you could be older than 16!" He teases.

"How old are you?" I ask angrily, meeting his eyes. The boy shrugs, teeth glinting.

"I'm eighteen." He says. I take a moment to study his features. He's got thick, sturdy arms roped with muscle, a broad chest and long, agile legs. You could almost overlook him as a Laquanian, if you didn't count his size or eye type. He looks... healthy. Most of us down here are twig thin, pale and sickly. It's a weird contrast to see him amongst us. "So," he continues. "Tell me about this girl..."

That does it. I bring my closed fist around to connect with his stupid face, only to have it batted away roughly. The boy frowns, muscles tensing, before sending a punch of his own at my jaw. His fist connects with my face and I hear the sharp crack of a bone and taste the blood flowing from my now bruised nose. But I don't register or feel any kind of pain. It's something that's happened over the years of torture. My nerve cells have collapsed to a point where only a fatal injury can cause me any pain. It's what you get for being a special case.

Even though I don't feel anything though, my head still whips backwards from the impact, causing me to fall off my seat. As I pick myself up off the sandy ground, my attacker's face has paled. He holds his fist upright, his knuckles stained with my blood. But he's shaking. It looks like... he's scared of me.