Take All That I Am .:1:.

Sitting in his room, alone, the small boy built a small town out of blocks.
In the town there were kids who played together.
He looked down into his little hands at the lego man that he had taped small, cut-out ears and a tail onto...It was supposed to resembled him.
Brian blinked down slowly at his lego self and gave a soft sigh, dropping the toy into the makeshift house that was supposed to resemble his own.
"Yew dun get to pway." He said softly, putting the roof onto the house, hiding the tiger lego man inside. "People will think yew weird."
Sitting back, he looked out his window in longing, listening to his mother walking downstairs.
His tail swished behind him, his ears swivelling.
He was cursed at birth with tiger ears and tail and the ability to heal small, dead creatures.
On his sixth birthday last week, he had brought his lizard back to life only to have his mom accidentally let it loose outside.
She always hated the reptile.
Brian's ears lay flat as he growled and threw his little fists into the legos, scattering them. "No mowe." He hissed, his tail fluffing out in anger, his irises becoming golden slivers, something that happened when he was angry.
At the commotion, his father came in with furrowed brows.
"Brian, what's wrong, son?" He came in, smoothing Brian's slightly messy hair.
Growling, he clamped his fangs down on his father's hand, his eyes flashing in rage as his nostrils flared.
Pulling away with a gasp of pain, his father held his hand to his chest, not appearing angry, only concerned. "Son, please." He knelt down, not minding the blood soaking into his shirt. "Tell Daddy what's bothering you."
Brian was his father's namesake, but his dad wasn't cursed with the appearance of a feline.
"Go'way." The angered kitten hissed, backing up to hide under his bed.
Mr. Haner frowned, slowly standing. "...I love you, son. I'll come get you when dinner is ready. We're having steak tonight," he said, hoping to cheer his young boy up.
Turning away, Brian slumped onto his little tummy, his ears pressed to his head as his tail thumped against the floor.
"C'mon, buddy...Y'know it's your favorite," he attempted in a sing song voice, nudging his son playfully.
Skuttling farther under the bed, Brian whined, "I'm not hungwy."
"You gotta eat. You're a growing boy!"
"I'm a fweak..." The voice said softly from under the bed, tears in the words.
Brian's father sat down beside the bed. "You're not a freak, Brian Elwin."
"Den why wunt Momma and yew let me gew outswide?" The little boy sniffled, not coming out.
"Because people aren't as understanding as your mother and me. One day, son...one day you'll be able to go outside without fear." Mr. Haner said softly, hopefully.
It was silent for a few seconds before he whispered, "Liyer...I'm tew ugly to let out...I'm like...Like Fwankenstein."
"Don't ever say that!" His father scolded. "You are a beautiful young boy. People are just...cruel."
A little, regular looking lego man skittered across the floor, resting at his dad's feet. "I'm not nowmal." Then, his own lego man rattled across the floor and landed ontop of the other lego man.
"Everyone's different in their own way," Mr. Haner said softly, reaching out to stroke his son's head with his unwounded hand.
Brian sniffled as he looked away, remaining silent now.
"I'll come check on you in an hour..." Mr. Haner sighed in defeat before standing, leaving the room to wrap his hand.
In the kitchen, his petite, brunette wife was seasoning the steaks. She did a double take at her husband's hand, gasping, "What happened?"
"Brian's...a little upset. I hope he's okay," he frowned before he consulted the first aid kit, cleaning and dressing his hand, sighing. "Don't you think it's time he start playing with the other children, hun?"
"That boy," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I don't know what we're going to do with him." Rachel completely ignored his question.
"Rach...he's distressed. He wants real human interaction. He's getting too old to think the only people he needs are his parents."
Throwing down the small bottle of pepper, she snapped, "Oh, like kids who'll call him a freak? Who'll make fun of him left and right? He needs that? No, Brian. He doesn't need anyone but us." She huffed, sliding the pan of meat into the oven. "One day, he'll see that. He'll understand."
Brian Senior rubbed his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of stress bare down on his shoulders. "I'm going to go sit in the living room for a minute..." He trailed off, flopping down in his recliner before falling deep into thought, rubbing his scruff, sighing shakily. Why couldn't humanity be less cruel and more accepting?
He realized that the question wouldn't come to him now...And it never might.