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'Family'

Finn's P.O.V.

"What in the hell are you doing, boy!?" Jacob yells at me as I am digging my shovel into the dirt.

"Why, I am digging the hole, like you had asked me to, sir," I respond politely, yearning to not spur any unnecessary trouble.

"But hadn't I asked you to dig it six feet deep and three feet wide?" Shivers run down my spine at his words, but he must learn to have some patience soon, or else he will kill his only source of labor.

"I-I am getting there, sir, but it just takes some ti-" I am cut off by my shovel being ripped from  my grasp, leaving behind splinters and cuts, and then I experience a sharp pain in the back of my left thigh. I can't hold in my cry and I fall to the ground, clutching my bloodied thigh with a new gash in it.

"Serves you right for talking back to me, mutt," Jakob hisses at me and throws the shovel back at me before walking away. "I expect that done in an hour; don't disappoint!"

I lie there, whimpering in pain from not only my leg and various other old wounds brought to light, but from my heart as well. It isn't fair that my parents were murdered for being monsters. It is not my fault that I am what I am. I do not want to hurt anyone, but I just want to live my life and be free of all of this pain, like normal humans do....

"F-Finn?!" I hear a familiar voice gasp out above me and I open my eyes to see the only one who accepts me for who I am; Nash. "Buddy, are ya all right? Is Jacob still beatin' you?" I just nod slightly and tear my gaze away from the green, caring eyes that belong to my only friend. "Why don't ya stop diggin' your own grave and come with me so that ma can fix ya up?" How ironic: I wasn't digging my own grave, but it is in fact a grave that I had been digging; for who, I have no idea, and that frightens me.

"I-I r-really do not think that I should, Nash," I mumble to him. Jacob wants this completed in a hour by sunset.

"But 'cha might just go'n bleed out on me, and I wouldn't want that, now, would I?" Well, you and Maria are the only ones who wouldn't.

"I'll just lick my wounds later, I'm busy," I growl out to him, my growl more animalistic than human.

"Na~!  That's a lie!  Get your ass outa that hole now!  You're only twelve: too young ta die!" Despite my protests, he yanks me out of the hole.  "That grave oughta be for that ol' bastard," Nash grumbles and I grin slightly.

"If only."

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"Finn!  Hello there, honey!"

"Ma, we need the rubbin' alcohol, some gauze, and bandages.  Also, we ne-"

"The usual?" Maria questions, sighing at the sight of my left arm slung across Nash's shoulders to help me stay on my feet.

"Yea, ma.  Thanks."  With Maria's leave, my friend gently helps me into a rickety chair in the kitchen and then blows his jet-black hair from his face.  "Ya know, Finn, my ma worries for you...."

"Maybe it would be better if she didn't...."

"Don't ya go saying that kinda stuff!" Nash speaks with anger.  "People should accept ya; you are not much different from us humans, after all.  Damn discrimination."

"Hey, it has been around for as long as this world has existed.  And I don't think that it is only because people need something to blame and hate for this mess, but because they are scared of us..." I speak darkly, referring to my kind. I hate what I am, and all I want is to just be normal.