Degenerate

DegenerateOdell Presley Contents Title PageChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter Five Chapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenEpilogue Chapter OneBen began another tirade against the weather.“It’s not right. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a cloud in sight. The day has all the beauty of springtime, yet it still feels like winter.”He took the lunchbox, the fuses, and the lighter from his military backpack and used the knife that hung from his hip pocket to punch a hole in the side of the metal box. A little gasoline poured out onto my brother’s shoes, causing him to swear, but in a few moments, his anger subsided. His temper never stayed out too long, and his focus shifted back to the warren after a few moments. He placed the lunchbox down into the rabbit hole like he was planting a flower.“Hand me your stick, will you? I want to make sure the bomb goes deep down.”“Sure, bub,” I said as I twirled my walking stick.“Please, just make sure you take it out of the hole before the bomb goes off. I searched forever for a good one, and I don’t want you to destroy it. It would take me forever to find another.” Ben ignored me and continued his monologue against the weather. “It’s not right. The wind is making me wear a shirt. But the sunshine tells me I should be shirtless and tanning. I hate feeling conflicted. Now my face and hands will turn dark, and my body will stay pale and be whiter than your skinny legs.”He was always like that, reminding me he was bigger and much more handsome than me.“Hurry up with that stick,” he ordered.As I outstretched my walking stick, my Darkness flared for the briefest moment, and I considered bashing his face in. I grinned at the thought of my mighty blows splitting his skull. His head would be like a bowl, and his blood and brain matter would be soup for the Birds he loved.“Never kill a bird. If you kill a bird or even think about killing a bird, I’ll kill you,” Ben told me once when we were younger. “Why?” I asked.“Because birds are messengers. Messengers from the gods.”His mind worked that way. He was always making weird connections with the animals and saw intent or conspiracy where there was none. He considered some animals nearly divine, others he despised with malignancy. He loved birds but hated rabbits.My brother was a big, bumbling, pretty idiot who rudely asked me for a stick. He always commanded me as if he were my master, and I was his dog. I should have tried to kill him, but alas, he might have dodged or survived my first strike. If it came down to a mutual fight, I would lose ten times out of ten. Besides, I doubt I had the element of surprise. It seemed he was always ready for me to attack. The last time I tried to kill him was three years ago when I was twelve, and he was fourteen. I attempted to hit him with a hammer after he killed the baby rabbit I tried keeping as a pet. It was a cute little creature. When I first found the baby, I knew it would not end well. Ben had a rule; all animals were either food for us or food for the Birds.Keeping the baby rabbit as a pet was dangerous, especially with Ben as a brother, but I thought I could outsmart him. I determined to keep my little companion (A survivor from a warren we destroyed) in the neighbor’s abandoned barn. It worked for a while, but then Ben caught on. He realized I was disappearing multiple times throughout the day and eventually followed me.Ben was furious when he found me petting and feeding the little creature in the barn. He ran at me and screamed, “What are you doing feeding vermin? Don’t you know we eat those things!” With those words, he took my little rabbit and stomped it underfoot. With a sinister smile, he pressed down, and I heard the poor baby squeal before it died.Until that moment, I had never wanted to kill him. I had murdered rabbits before and had seen him kill them. Heck, we have killed many kinds of animals. But, when I saw him kill my pet rabbit, whom I had not even named yet, such anger overtook me that I picked up a rusty hammer from a decaying pile of straw and ran at him with pure bloodlust. My attempted murder did not work. He overpowered me faster than he had the little rabbit, threw the hammer aside, and held me down.“Going to kill me, eh? I think you mistook me for an animal. You’re getting confused, dear brother. You must have thought that little rabbit was your brother. Well, don’t worry. Your actual brother will straighten out all the confusion in your little mind.”He laughed, “I always heard the babies tasted the best. Ready for supper?”“How far down are you going to push it in?” I asked and handed him the stick.“All the way, until the little suckers’ squeal. I want to smash them against the walls of their dirty little homes. They will feel my wrath today. I hate rabbits.”His hideous words drummed up my curiosity, as this level of violent passion was uncommon even in him. I realized I did not know why he hated rabbits so much. He hated animals, which was reason enough for him to kill them, but my brother seemed to have a passionate disdain for a harmless and cute animal. As I watched the stick and my brother’s arm disappear beneath the Earth’s surface, curiosity compelled me to ask. I spoke even though my brother hated questions about his beliefs.“Ben, why do you hate rabbits?”“You mean, why do we hate rabbits?” he growled, throwing me a glare over his shoulder.“Yes, why do we