Adjusting

I didn't know what human was for the first ten years of my life; strange I know, but it will get clearer.

My mother, if I must honor her with that title, was not like most mothers. Since I was born, she kept me locked up in the garage in total darkness with very little food and even less contact, well, nice contact anyway. Every once and a while she would stagger down to me and beat me until the darkness was inside my head. I spent ten years with no light; not knowing what I looked like, what anything was and I did not talk much. 

Most days, or nights, I cannot be sure anymore, I would just lie on my back in the pitch black and stare up at the ceiling, or it might have been the floor because I had no sense of up and down. That was my existence. 

Trapped.

Alien.

Not knowing any better.

Then my throat started making strange noises on its own, pulsating and groaning so much that it terrified me. But I didn't know what fear was. I knew so little, that it was as if I was nothing. Only hunger, thirst and energy were known to me. And pain. Always pain. 

As my cries got louder and louder, mother came down and wrenched her claws, for that was what they were to me, around my throat. Still I groaned and screamed and cried, louder and louder until the walls seemed to vibrate. 

The End

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