Being Us

Movement. I just saw movement. I stop and turn slowly waiting. Listening. They make noise, maybe if I wait I will hear it. I smell the air, they smell, I should be able to smell them by now. I wait just a little longer, but think it's best to keep moving, keep searching. Then I heard it again. A rustle in the bushes. I stop and begin to walk slowly closer to the bushes. It can't be big, something small. . . Then out pops a squirrel and I lung forward. They are tasty, haven't had food in too long. The squirrel tries to escape, but it's too slow. I have it in my hands and I bit into it hungrily. Blood. So good.

I drop the carcass and carry on. Still hungry. 'You're always hungry,' the voice in my head tells me and I take another look at the squirrel carcass. 'Gross,' she responds. 'What is gross?' I ask. 'You,' she retorts and she sounds irritated. 'No I'm hungry,' I respond. This keeps her quiet. I do not like or hate her, mostly just indifferent, but she hates me. 'Despises you,' she adds like I care. I don't know much about her. All I really know is I'm hungry, really hungry. 'You shouldn't eat them,' she tells me but I don't really listen to her. I don't really know what happens if I don't stop eating, but I know it's good. It's the best thing I have ever had. 'You're killing them' she says desperate. 'Do you know how painful it is to die?' she asks. 'Do you?' I as and she's quiet. 'No, but neither do you,' she says. 'I don't think I want to stop eating, I need it. I want it.' I say trying to make her understand, but she doesn't.

I look around seeing other like me. They eye me but mostly just carry on like I do. 'That's Mr. Jenkins,' she says when I see a man shuffling near me. She's quiet as I walk up the stairs and into a building. It's rare when that happens. It's usually when I'm hunting even if she was in the middle of a rant and I see something she's gone, but sometimes she just feels overwhelmed and shuts up. It must be one of those moment's now. I shuffle into a room. Maybe there's something in here. I shuffle through doorways and into another room. 'This is my room,' she says and I look around indifferent. 'That's my bed, and my clothes, and all my jewelry,' she says proudly. Then something gets her excited. 'That's my ring!' She says when I spy something small and sparkly. 'It's still here!' she says and I can tell she's excited about it. 'Take it,' she tells me. 'I don't want it. It's not food,' I respond. 'Take it!' she says again. 'Take it, take it, take it, take it, take it,' she carries on till I pick it up to make her shut up. She doesn't usually win these arguments, but I take it for her.

She looks at it. 'Mother gave it to you,' she says. 'Don't you remember?' she asks. 'I am not you, I woke up here. All I am is hungry. . .