10 | Twilight Stereotypes

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"I've never seen the sky this color before. It's like I'm noticing everythin' a little bit more."

~ Adele, Strangers By Nature

"The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be

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"The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be."

A shudder ran through his body, but even still, he didn't move. His feet stayed rooted where they were, his arms heavy by his side. The only thing that moved were his panicked eyes that darted around the room, refusing to meet the tied up human's gaze.

General Hoppers sighed as if he were dealing with an insolent child. "I gave you an order, mutt. It's what weapons do. It's what you are."

Thirteen year olds don't do this. Thirteen year olds, human or not, weren't weapons. Frightful tears gathered in his eyes and his teeth suddenly felt like they ached, his claws felt like they were going to burn into his fingers. They were the couple of things that proved he was inhuman. They were the things that got him into this situation to begin with. He hated them. He hated himself.

"I can't. I can't kill her." Cillian rasped.

He sighed, and for a moment, Cillian thought he was being let off the hook. Boy was he wrong. His back was slammed back against the wall, the front of his shirt balled up in the general's fist. "You can and you will," General Hoppers sneered and slammed him against the wall once more. Fighting back only meant more consequences. "You kill her or I will, and I won't make it quick."

He was released and nearly fell to his knees. His strong legs that would normally hold him up confidently and high, trembled and threaten to give away as he staggered to the human. The human watched him with wide, terrified eyes, pleading through the gag to spare her life.

He froze, trying to think what would be the quickest way without a weapon to end her life. Only he should be the one to suffer, not her.

His clawed fingers trembled as he gently grabbed her by the back of the neck and she screamed at the sight of him, as if he were some monster. He had fangs that could bite through bone, claws as sharp as knives, and he already towered over any human at thirteen years old.

Maybe that's what he was. A monster.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, brokenly. With a twist, he snapped her neck.

Applause.

The general clapped loud and proud, a handful of others joined in too. Meanwhile, Cillian was struggling to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

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