The Breed Next Door

“You were created. Created to give your lives to the Genetics Council at any time deemed appropriate. You are animals. Nothing more. You have no sire. You have no bitch mother. You have only us. And we will decide if you are strong enough to live or die.”

The dream was merciless, stark in the memory of who and what he was as he watched the scientist point out the procedure that had created him.

The genetic enhancement of an unknown sperm and ova.

The fertilization, the development before it was ever placed within a human womb. And finally, the death of the vessels that had carried each Feline Breed babe to term.

Nothing was hidden from the immature creatures.

They sat on the floor of their cells and watched the graphic video daily. They saw it nightly in their dreams.

“You are not human. No matter your appearance. You are an animal. A creation. A tool. A tool for our use. Never imagine you will ever be anything different…”

Tarek tossed within the nightmare, years of blood and death passing by him. The lashes of the whip biting into his back, his chest. Hours of torture because he had not killed savagely enough or because he had shown mercy. The pain of knowing that the dream of freedom might be no more than a fantasy, quickly lost to death.

He came awake in a rush, the blood pounding through his veins, sweat dampening his flesh as the horrors he had fought so long to distance himself from returned.

Breathing roughly, he rose from the bed, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs before leaving the bedroom. He inhaled deeply as he left the room, his brain automatically processing the scents of the house, sifting through them, searching for anomalies. There were none. His territory was uncorrupted, as secure now as it had been when he settled into his bed.

He rubbed his hand over the ache in his chest, the almost ever-present remembrance of that last beating, and the whip running with a current of electricity that sent agony resonating through his body.

He was created, not born.

Those words echoed through his mind as he opened the back door and stepped onto the porch.

Created to kill. Not human…

He stared into the bleak emptiness of the late-fall Arkansas night as he let the memories wash over him. Fighting them only made it worse, only made the nightmares worse.

You will never know love. Animals do not love, so before you ever imagine this is a benefit due you, forget it!

The trainers had been quick to destroy any flicker of hope before it drew breath, took form, or hinted at an end to their tortured suffering. The psychological training had been brutal.

You are nothing. You are a four-legged beast walking on two. Never forget that…

Your ability to speak does not mean you have permission to do so…

He stared into the star-studded night.

God does not exist for you. God creates His children. He does not adopt animals…

The final destruction. A silent snarl curved his lips as he glared into the brilliance of a sky he had never been meant to see.

“Who does adopt us then?” he snarled to the God he had been taught had no time for him or for his kind.

“Who does?”