Page 45 of Citrine

"Mypadreand she weremarriedfor a while when I was younger. I thought they were inlove. I used to believe suchfairy tales. It all came crashing down when theydivorcedand my mother got everything, leaving me to be with mypadre. What could he do? He was anexpatriatewith nofamilyaround. Heraisedme as best as he could. He did everything to make me happy and evenencouragedme when I got into thegifted program.Padrewas the best and I thought we would live like that forever. Unfortunately, life is so cruel. He left me so early and passed away in aworkaccident."

Her voice is soft and passionate. She speaks fondly of this person she callspadre, her eyes becoming softer when she mentions the name. She also speaks of the person who birthed her. To know the person who is responsible for your existence is such an odd feeling to me.

"Who is thispadreperson?"

"He's… myfather. He's the other person responsible for me being alive."

It's truly so odd.

"Your seed-bearer is dead?" I say.

She wiggles her face up and down. "Yes."

"I see. I understand that. Many of the males of my species do not survive seed-giving, or if they do, they die young and violently. But why does it matter to you that he is dead? It is normal."

"Like I said, he wasresponsiblefor me. He tookcareof me best as he could. He wasn't always good at it, but he tried his best. It doesn't always have to be how you describe."

"I do not understand. What other way could it be?"

"You find other people who look out for you, and you look out for them. You make asafeplace, and you protect it together."

"I do not trust others. They will steal your kills and tear out your throat in your sleep if they can."

"Wroahk," she says, looking at me with something I don't recognize in her eyes. "Has anyone ever touched you without violence?"

"No."

"What? Your life has been very different from mine. I mean, mystepfatheris pretty much abastardwho used to beat on me andmymotherbut aside from that, I met a lot of people who werekindto me."

Kind? I don't know what that means.

She must know that, because she pauses and does the thing where she's carefully selecting her words.

"That didn't translate.Kindness.It means for someone to look at you without an intent to harm or have someone speak to you with no ill will, usually to make you feel good and you do the same for others."

"That does not exist," I say, hoping to end this immediately.

She is as insane as I suspected.

"Can I prove you wrong?" she asks, her voice pitching up.

I can't deny my curiosity, though I know she has nothing to teach me.

"You can do whatever you like, but you will fail. I'm confident that it does not exist, this thing you speak of. You are a terrible hunter, so why would you know anything I do not?"

Despite what I say, the look on her face unsettles me.

22

Eli

My first impression of him was that he was a wild animal. Completely untamed, completely ridiculous. It's still true.

However, I can see some of that wildness fading, like the sheen leaving a brand-new car. He doesn't admit it, but I can see he's more curious, more conversational.

I don't know why I told him about mypadre. Maybe I was trying to soften him. Maybe I was trying to see if I can find humanity beneath the monster that he is.

But when he said he's never been touched before, it stirs my empathy.

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