The Boy and the Animal

Part I | Six

"B-Brother," Dark muttered, slowly rising as we watched the boy open his eyes and peer around the room in foggy confusion, claw-like nails digging into the dirt.

The moment the boy locked eyes with me, he perked up and snapped out of his grogginess. Simultaneously, in the next beat of our hearts, we lunged at each other. Our bodies slammed together, his willing itself to get to the door passed my brother and mine doing everything in its power to stop him.

This time, for the first time, I didn't hold back- knowing that, despite being a boy, he had the strength of a boar- and slammed him down against the ground. I had him pinned. Even so, he kicked and screamed and clawed at me, biting feverishly in anticipation for flesh. But he could not move.

After what seemed like ages of his thrashing, my brother now hiding in the corner beside the door as he looked on in horror, the boy exhausted himself. I took this as a sign that he was ready to listen, but when I released him, he darted right back for the door.

He nearly made it to my brother, who squealed and looked away to brace himself for impact, but I quickly wrapped my arms around his petite waist and threw him back down onto the ground. The boy cried out, but I held him down until he stopped thrashing again.

Over and over and over again. This was how our night went. I would grab him, keep him still, let him go, only to restart the process again. My brother stayed with me threw it, simply watching in awe. I was growing tired of it, but there was method to my madness- why I refused to learn from history.

He wasn't an animal.

This boy was very much human, that I had learned the moment we cornered him at the river. That was why, I resolved with each time I forced him down, I would not treat him like an animal. I would not cage him. I didn't care how long it took. I would tame the human out of him.

After several hours went by like this, the boy growing further and further away from my now sleeping brother as time went on, I had finally had enough. Grabbing him by his wrist like the child he was, I pulled him back to the hay bed; he kicked and screamed and fought and thrashed like a spoiled brat, but the moment I shoved him down to sit criss-cross, he stopped.

"No!" I scolded him. "You. Sit!"

He paused, eyes staring wide into me. The look on his face as he sat there, as still as death, reminded me of a toddler- and in grief of just how long he must have been alone I nearly wrapped my arms around him right then and there- but I remained staunch. My finger kept its place, keeping him in line without a threat. Simply a command. And he respected it.

I relaxed after some time, as I had done each and every time before, but for once that whole night he stayed where he was. After so many hours, it seemed he had finally realized I wasn't going to set him free, and, feeling this, I put a meter distance, sitting back in my first real rest that night. It felt so good. His piercing glare wouldn't steal this from me.

"Good boy," I sighed. He snarled.

"Finally get him to stop?" Dark asked, closing the basement door behind him. I flinched, having thought that he'd still been sleeping. Perhaps that was hours ago, though.

He carried a black tray on his way downstairs, and all at once the whiff of eggs, bacon, toast, and grits filled my nose. My mouth watered until I was drowning in my own saliva. So much grease and carbohydrates and heart attack, and I needed it all in my mouth right then and there. I soon realized, however, that I wasn't the only one who noticed the breakfast.

At the slightest shift of his feet, I lurched forward and tackled him. The boy screamed at me, biting for my face, but, yet again, I refused to let him go. I grabbed him in a headlock and sat him back down on the hay bed.

"Sit!" I commanded. He shot up again. I slammed him back down. "No!" He sat up. I shoved him down. "No!"

Shift.

Slam.

Shift.

Slam. 

The sounds of our struggling filled the room again. It was resolve versus resolve, and I wasn't about to lose- no matter how good that 20,000 gold sounded right then. Finally, perhaps he was growing tired, the boy gave an angry huff and sat down. I pointed my finger at him as my brother slid my tray to me from across the room.

Our eyes locked like gears grinding together, electric flame searing between us as I took a fork and cut into my egg. I could see the hunger in his eyes as they fell to the meat, still steaming fresh and rising into the air, but he would wait. He was the guest. He was the child. And I was now his caretaker.

"I. Eat. First."

I warned him in short, stern words, not knowing how much, if any, English he understood. He snarled, but I ignored him and put the fork to my mouth. The moment it touched my tongue, he shot up and clawed at me. I caught him, but his claws made contact with my face, landing three deep scratches. The force of his knocked me on my back with him on top of me, and my food was sent scattered around.

That was the extent of his damage, however, as before he could take advantage of my position I snatched his wrists and kicked him in the stomach. This forced him back onto the bed. I was up in the next beat of our hearts and giving him the sternest glare I had ever mustered. He growled. I growled back, louder. He perked up.

If he didn't understand me, I would translate.

He sat and watched me pick up what I could salvage of my breakfast and place it back on the plate. I ignored him, taking my seat in front of him again and trying once again. Fork. Egg. Mouth. All I wanted was a few bites and then I would feed him the rest. I cut a piece of egg and placed it in my mouth. His foot shifted, but with a growl from, one that I wasn't sure whether or not was intentional, he stopped.

I finished half of the egg, savoring its taste. This was going pretty well, I couldn't help but believe with food finally hitting my stomach. That was when I made for the bacon, topped with dirt and hair bits. He leaped again, and the plate went flying. Again.

This... Was going to take some time.