The Beginning.

Chapter I: Fresh Meat

Four years later.

A loud bang awakens me from my sleep. "GERARD! GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP!" My mother calls, unlocking the door. I sit up on my dirty mattress on the floor of the cellar. I pull my jacket on and I struggle to zip it up. I'm growing quickly out of my old clothes, and I'm too afraid to tell my mother that I need new ones. She'd just lower my daily rations, which wasn't a lot to begin with. I shrug out of the too-small jacket and shuffle upstairs and into the kitchen.

Mikey and Grandma Elena are waiting for me in the dining room, and I sit in between them, resting my head on Mikey's shoulder. I tug gently on his chestnut brown hair and he looks at me, his eyes filled with concern. His look changes to one of understanding as I motion to my tight clothes and whimper. He pats my head comfortingly and I relax, leaning into his touch. "Grandma, Gerard's growing out of his old clothes again," Mikey explained quietly, making sure his voice didn't carry over to the next room. She and Mikey were the only ones that I was sure would never harm me. She gave me a warm smile and I felt loved, which was a rare feeling for me.

"Well now, I'll go into town to see if Earl has anything he's willing to trade for, okay hun?" I nodded and squeezed her hand, which showed my thanks. My mother brought in breakfast, calling the rest of our large family down to the table. There are thirteen of us that live in the house: Me, my Mother and Father, Mikey, Grandma Elena, my Grandma Rose on my father's side, Uncle Bobby, his wife Aunt Mary, Uncle Roy, his wife Aunt Dani and their three kids, Abby, Billy and Tyler. My Father took his seat at the head of the table, my Mother and Grandma Rose sitting next to him and the rest scattered along the long table.

I preferred my Grandma Elena to Grandma Rose. Rose was cruel and always pointed out my faults, which were many. Still, I didn't refer to her as my grandmother. As soon as everyone was at the table, we began to eat. I wasn't allowed to use utensils like the others because they thought I'd hurt someone, so I was forced to eat with my hands like an animal. I felt a pair of eyes on me, knowing it was Rose, so I kept my head down low. "Don, will you do something about that thing? He's ruining my appetite," She barked at my Father, who followed his Mother's every command. He sighed and stood up, yanking me out of my seat by the hair and throwing me down on the floor. I whimpered as he dumped my breakfast onto the dirty floor. "If you're going to eat like a pig, you can eat on the floor," He sneered, going back to his seat. I crawled next to Mikey's chair and pulled on his shirt, seeing as though I couldn't reach his hair.

"It's okay Gee," He cooed until my father told him to stop talking to 'animals', to which he angrily obeyed. My stomach growled as I looked at the food on the floor and I began to eat again, feeling pathetic. I stayed on the floor until everyone had left and gone, my Uncles and my Father going out to hunt for our dinner. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Grandma Elena smiling down at me.

"Come here sweetie," She said, and I got up, following her to the living room. She sat down on the couch and I followed suit. "Oh, look at you. You're a mess." She fussed with my hair and wiped the crumbs from around my mouth. I cringed when she tucked my fringe behind my ear, revealing my face.

Her smile turned into a frown when my Mother walked into the room. "Mom, what are you doing? He'll hurt you! Gerard, go back down to the cellar," She commanded, but Grandma Elena stopped me. "Stay right where you are sweetie. Donna, you should be ashamed of yourself, keeping this boy locked up like an animal! He's your son! All he wants is to be loved like everyone else, isn't that right sweetie?" I began to cry and she pulled me into her arms, letting me sob into her chest.

She was right. All my life, I thought my family was protecting me, when all they were doing was keeping me caged. They didn't complain when I killed trespassers and we ate the bodies. They treated me as if I was a ruthless killing machine, and it hurt, it really fucking hurt. I let out all my hurt in my tears, and Grandma Elena stroked my hair quietly, rocking me on her lap. I didn't feel ashamed one bit that I was 19 years old and crying in my Grandmother's arms. After all, I was never given affection like this before.