GROWL (Semi-Haitus)

ONE

Lillian Lockhart was the first to ask me if I was a monster.

Actually, she was the first kid to say anything to me. Ever. We both couldn't have been older than six or seven, and it was a silly question that was expected from a child who had nothing better to do than to twiddle her thumbs. But nevertheless, I was stunned that she was either stupid or brave enough to actually talk to me.

I hadn't thought much about it at the time, but thinking back, the hazel and blue tint in the otherwise dull greyness of my eyes weren't exactly normal, not around Lawgate at least. And according to her, they made me look like an ambiguous creature from one of her fairytale books.

I wasn't offended by her choice of vocabulary, because the wonder and intrigue that sparkled in her own pair of rounded brown eyes softened me. It was a harmless question.

But her mother thought otherwise.

I remember the way she yanked her daughter away from me, her eyes bulging out of it's sockets, a sudden flush of panic flooding that pretty face of hers as she scolded her daughter as though she'd just slapped me across the face. I wanted to tell the woman it was alright, that I was happy she had spoken to me, let alone offended by it. But she didn't wait to hear what I had to say and stormed off with her daughter before I could even get a word out.

Since the Great War, children were prohibited from speaking to each other until they reached the age of ten. Unless you were related. So back then, I hadn't suspected anything from the way other kids avoided my gaze and ignored my existence. It was normal for us to blindly follow the rules without asking too many questions, no matter how much we itched for the answers.

It was the adults I suspected.

The way they glared at the other kids who weren't their own flesh and blood, the tinge of panic that glazed their eyes when they saw us even a few feet near their child - something seemed wrong with us, about the kids, and they weren't exactly making it subtle.

"They're just under a lot of stress," My older brother, Seth, had answered when I asked him. He wasn't looking at me at the time, too busy clearing up the kitchen. "Don't think too much of it, Thea. Mrs. Lockhart probably just thought Lillian was being rude, that's all" Seth was ten or eleven then, but he's always seemed so much older than he actually was when he spoke. Even at such a young age, he seemed to have the sophistication and intellect of a grown man, the maturity and responsibility of one, and it earned him the respect he deserved. You'd figure as much, I guess. You can only stay a child for so long after both your parents die. Seth had to grow up pretty darn quickly if he wanted us to stay alive, and I wasn't all that different either.

"Still don't get it though" I mumbled, helping clear up the table of plastic plates and cups. "Grownups are weird"

Seth turned to me then, a charming smile gracing his still healthy and youthful face despite the slight hollow of his cheeks. He crouched down to my measly height and stared at me with the hazel eyes of his which, unlike mine, weren't an ugly random mix of colors. They were darkened around the edges, with a sunburst pattern that gave them a warm and comforting quality I've always liked. "Wanna bet we're even weirder?" His hand went up to ruffle my hair, a row of perfect teeth on show as he laughed at my attempt to blow the strands out of my face.

"Why can't I talk to the other kids?" It wasn't like I wanted to, but I'd at least like the choice, or the ability to ask someone else in my class if they had a spare pen, or warn them if a meteor was about to destroy earth.

Seth held my gaze for a few seconds, the position of his curved lips unmoving. "I told you, haven't I? Something to do with the Great War"

I pouted at the all too familiar answer.