I called him Uncle Logan even though he wasn’t a blood relative. Not even close. Both my parents were only children and if it weren’t for this “uncle” of mine, I probably wouldn’t have had parents in the first place.
I was 6 when he took me from Kepler Research Labs; snatched me out of bed in the middle of the night in my pajamas and no socks. I remember because my feet were freezing. I put them in front of the car heater, but it was broken. I was hungry and the collar around my neck itched.
We pulled up to the front of this small yellow house where two people were standing out in the snow like they’d been expecting us. Next thing I know, I hear the car’s engine gun up without me in it. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see Uncle Logan again, but he came back the next year, taking me out for burgers and ice cream. My parents didn’t say a word, just handed me off to him, like he‘d handed me off that night. By then, I’d gotten my collar off and moved on to “health” injections, as Mom liked to call them.
Uncle Logan came back every year, and every year it was the same, he’d take me out for a few hours… no more… no less. I figured he'd gotten tired of visiting when he missed two years in a row; it was devastating to say the least, but I lived on.
Then a few weeks after my 16th birthday, Uncle Logan snatched me out of bed again, threw me in a truck with some of my stuff and started driving like a mad man.
“Where’s Pony?” I asked, not wanting the answer to my real question, the one that had me never seeing home again.
“Vegas, left me on the side of the road there.” He said, seeming somewhat annoyed.
I didn't ask him anything else for the next few hours.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You probably should read the original first.