The sensation was crazy. It was like the itch that was never reachable, but spanned out over every part of the body and multiplied. It never went away.

Everyday the doctors would find something for them to do to me. Whether it was to inject something in me or to take a glance at my internal organs. My organs. Who gave them the right to look at such things?

My legs were on fire from overuse, but I paced the room anyway. Anything to try and shake my head of the thoughts of procedures. But my scars had other ideas.

I was dying of starvation. I needed meat. But not a hunk of steak or pork, but internal meat. The organs that make an animal tick. I needed it and I needed it now.

My vision started to become distorted. My peripheral vision was about gone, but my focal vision was sharper than ever. And my eyesight, nose, and mouth all pointed to one being.

The doctor.

My mind blank, I jumped off of my table like I was hit by electricity and I pounced on the white lab coat. Screams and cries for help were deaf to my ears as my senses were being overloaded by the alive, throbbing organs of the inhumane doctor. His pulsing heart sang to me. I could almost taste the warmth…

So I dove into temptation.

Blood wouldn’t get me going for long, but it was better than nothing. My mouth needed to do something. Those creepy, disgusting, poor excuses for doctors deserved what I wanted to do to them. A shudder rode down my spine as I replayed the scene of the doctor’s death. I remember dragging his body back for the rest of us to share. We went crazy that night.

We had a beautiful hangover the next day.

It was relentless. I remember sharp, stabbing pain, which didn’t bother me, but having my skin and muscle torn away for a full 24 hours and then poorly stitched together like the work of a blind housewife wasn’t a joy ride.

But as the saying goes, I shouldn’t dwell on the past.

Those days were behind us, even if their ghosts came back to haunt us periodically. We’d pull through. I couldn’t remember the last time I had made bonds like this. They were too precious to forget. Nothing would get in their way.

So whatever comes at us, be it the devil or Godforsaken mailmen, we’ll pull through. We always do.

Just like now.

We may be monsters, but we were always brothers first.

- - -

A/N: As always, please remember to leave a critique and/or comment. Thank you.

-Snapshot