The Farm
I remember the last time that I saw her alive.
I was standing on the observation deck, trailing behind my father and his colleagues; they were talking business. Business that was also my business, yet I didn’t care for it. I didn’t so much care for the logistics of the farm, or where they found the stock; I cared about how they were treated, or more so, how they deserved to be treated. To my father and his peers, the humans on the farm were nothing more than cattle, but to me, they were people. Just like us, minus the fangs. They were stronger than us, fighting the effects of the vaccine, yet we deemed ourselves superior in order to harvest their blood.