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Post by Zane Kiliso on Nov 1, 2008 19:19:54 GMT -5
"Whatsyourface! Get in here, now!" Yelled a male voice from the large home. "I'm hungry."
"Yes, Blake..." Whimpered a small voice as the figure of a four-year-old slipped from his 'home', a small doghouse in the back yard of his former home. He wandered into the house, starring at the floor and was sent sprawling across the floor when the male, his older brother, backhanded him. "Not fast enough, freak-o." the ten-year-old snapped. "Now, hurry up and make me...some sort of sandwhich."
"Yes, Blake..." Whimpered the boy, his light blue hair falling over his face and eyes as he noticed his brother leave the kitchen and find a seat in the living room.
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Post by Zane Kiliso on Nov 1, 2008 19:25:46 GMT -5
The child began to rush about the kitchen, hopping up onto counters in order to get the needed items for the sandwhich. Blake hadn't specified what kind of sandwhich, so Zane just made a random one, ham and cheese. He didn't know why his family treated him like this...nothing more than a dog like the one who shared the dog house with, a dog he had managed to save from drowning in a lake two years before, when he first discovered his abilities.
Blake snorted in disgust and suddenly smacked the plate away. "Not ham and cheese, you idiot freak! But first, clean it up...Now!" he barked in anger.
Tears began forming in the boy's bright blue eyes as he went about doing as he was told. If he didn't, Blake would tell his mother about his disobedience who would then tell his father, who would then beat him for it. Blake was the only one that mattered...he had never mattered. Never. Blake this...Blake that. Hell, the rest of his family believed that he was dead...drowned in that same lake he has rescued his best friend, that dog. It was his only friend...
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Post by Zane Kiliso on Nov 1, 2008 19:34:40 GMT -5
And this is how Zane's life was for the first eight years of his life...abusive, neglectful...horrible to be frank. If Blake did something wrong, he would automatically be blamed for it. If Blake got an F on a test, Zane would be the one who was blamed for it because Blake's excuse would always be 'The Freak-o wouldn't shut up, so I didn't get to study.' And thus, Zane would be beat for that as well, which was every week actually...sometimes more when Blake had more than one test in a week. Blake wasn't a freak like he was...which he now believed that he was...a complete and utter freak. After eight years of this torture, he believed that he was a freak...destined to live this life of abusive and hatred.
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Post by Zane Kiliso on Nov 1, 2008 19:52:10 GMT -5
Zane was now eight years of age and was currently sitting on top of the dog house, his legs hanging over the side with his ever-faithful Lake, the dog he had rescued then named Lake, though she actually belonged to Blake because his mother wouldn't let him keep her, at least until Blake said HE wanted her...of course, Blake was the perfect child...the one who got his way, the one who asked if he could drive his mother's car at the age of 11 and was given permission, though he did wreck it, and guess who was blamed? Zane of course...even when he had been busy cooking dinner for the family. He of course got beat for it and was still sporting the sprained wrist from being beat over it.
A sigh escaped Zane's lips as he heard the voice of his parents, probably calling for him to go clean up after dinner, he wasn't even allowed to eat with the family, most of the time he would steal some leftovers to eat because they really weren't going to feed 'The Freak' as they called him. It was like he didn't even have a name anymore..well, he could barely remember his name. He hopped off the roof of the doghouse and wandered towards the house, then stopped. They hadn't called for him, they were talking about him.
"We can't keep him, what if he kills us in our sleep or something? He's a freak...and that's what all freaks do...take it out on the people who aren't." Came the feminine voice of his mother. "He's useful around the house, but we simply can't keep him...I don't trust him one bit...as he grows older, he will become rebellious..."
"What are we going to do about him?" Questioned the deep voice of his father curiously.
"Well, the circus wouldn't take him because he bloody well wouldn't show them his abilities...and we could kill him, but that's too messy...there are people who already know about him and if he just vanished...well, killing is out of the question."
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Post by Zane Kiliso on Nov 6, 2008 16:37:51 GMT -5
Zane just continued to stand there, ridged. They were going to get rid of him? He shook his head then tried to think positive...though he had nothing positive to think of. His whole life was a half-empty bottle. He thought it couldn't get any worse, but it had just gotten worse. Where would he go? What were they going to do with him?
Zane's mother uncaring voice continued. "Well, I hear the government is taking freaks like him in...we could sell him to them...we'd get money out of him being a freak...only good thing that'll come out of having the boy."
"What do they do with the freaks they get? Dissect them or something?"
"Hmm...various experiments I've heard...maybe they'll let him work for them, the Freak has become a pretty damn good cook..."
Zane turned and fled back to his small 'home'. "Lake...we're leaving." he murmered to the dog.
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