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“You want me to castrate him? You know I could be real sneaky about it. In and out. No one would be the wiser. Just a cat and a penis.”
“Are you…are you feeling okay?” “I—what do you mean?” I hold my arm tighter against myself. My mind jumps to my powers, the exhaustion, the chill that never leaves me alone. “What did it taste like?” He scratches the back of his neck, then shakes his head again. “It tastes like poison.”
And it’s not that I don’t enjoy it, in my own way. It’s nice being close to him, and I know he feels bad about it. I don’t know. Maybe other people would care more. Maybe I’m not that sexual of a person.
Maybe I gave up a few years ago and decided it wasn’t that important.
