Severed Bond- My Daughter’s Blood on His Hands
As I reached the yard, a scene in front of me made me freeze.
A boy, maybe ten years old, was squatting on the lawn. He was holding a small white rabbit.
The rabbit was struggling, letting out terrified squeals.
"Stop it!" I yelled, rushing forward and snatching the rabbit from his grasp.
The boy looked up at me, his face hostile.
His canines were already elongated, far too sharp for a ten-year-old.
"Who are you?" he demanded, getting to his feet. He was already almost as tall as me. "What gives you the right?"