Page 10 of Creatures Like Us
Chapter 4
Noah
Ifeelweirdlygiddyas I go upstairs to make my Goldilocks another sandwich.
As expected, he was a bit startled when he woke up, and even more so when I brought him down to the basement. It’s better for him there though. He’ll have his own room, and I can tend to him appropriately. He’ll understand soon enough.
The kitchen is as pristine as when Auntie was still alive. She loved baking bread on Sunday mornings, and when she could no longer hold a kitchen knife, I helped her with everything. I still have a few of the loaves we baked in the freezer, and one has been thawing on the counter for a few hours.
I put a slice in the toaster while I place an assortment of butter, turkey, and cheese on the counter. In due time, I’ll give my Goldilocks something more nutritious, but for now, I don’t want to leave him alone for too long.
With the sandwich on a paper plate and a can of soda in hand, I trot down the stairs to find him where I left him: on the bed I carried down here from the guest room, handcuffed wrist pulled to his chest.
He flinches when he sees me. Seems like he’s afraid of me. Pity. It’s not an uncommon occurrence though—people being afraid of me. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it has something to do with what the kids at school used to call me.
Dead Eye.
In middle school, they used to jump around me in a circle and call me this name in delight.Dead Eye, Dead Eye!Later on, they did worse things than just call me names. Among the kids in my class was someone I think Asher knows quite well: his own big brother, Ethan Dalton.
I didn’t see it at first, but I suppose they look quite alike, with the same curly blond hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. But where I remember Ethan having glowing, sun-kissed skin, Asher is pale, his complexion pallid and dry-looking, his jawline too sharp, his joints too protruding.
That’s what drugs and late nights will do to you. I’m sure I can get him looking healthier in no time.
Despite his deteriorating appearance, he is still very beautiful. It doesn’t seem like he understands just how beautiful, and that’s dangerous for someone like him. I feel like I know him already, as if I’ve seen into the depths of his heart. Strange. Maybe it’s just that I don’t interact with that many people. Since Auntie died, I can’t remember the last time I had a proper conversation with someone.
“Here,” I say, offering the plate.
Asher just stares at it, scowling as if it’s done him a personal slight.
“You told me you were hungry. Starving,” I add.
“You didn’t poison it, did you?”
I sigh, sitting down on the chair opposite the bed. “I told you—I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not like this?…?Buffalo person.”
“Buffalo Bill,” he says, trying to hide his smile behind the sandwich.
My eyes go wide at the sight. “You have?…?dimples.”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Your brother has them too.”
Asher nods as he chews, but then he stops chewing to stare at me. “How do you know my brother?”
A pang of unease hits my chest. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. “I’ve seen him around. You look a lot alike.”
“Wait, how old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“What school did you go to?”
“Northwood.”
“Me too. My brother as well. Did you have any classes together?”
Memories flash across my mind. Memories of Ethan Dalton laughing with his friends, his dimples on wide display in the classroom as he asked the teacher questions. Everyone thought he was such a Goody Two-Shoes, but I knew better: When class ended, he and his friends tormented me relentlessly. Ethan stood by the sidelines most of the time, but he was part of it, eventhatday?…
