You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been awake. All you did remember was waking up— the sun beaming on your face and a man standing over you.

His name was Victor, and Victor took care of you, for some very odd reason. You were still learning about this new world— about the mutants, humans, the wars, the animals, you were learning everything —and it was hard.

You looked like an adult, but you technically weren’t an adult. Or, at least, that’s what Victor told you. To him, you had the mind of a child; too curious, asking too many questions, and being dumb because you didn’t know anything about the modern world.

Despite all that, he took care of you. You can’t even remember where he found you. “Victor, what are you doing?” You stand in the entranceway to Victor’s smaller cabin, more like a shed really, but a small home nonetheless. He often came out here after returning home from wherever he went (you never asked), but you didn’t know why until now.

He was cleaning blood from his clothes and whatnot, bits and pieces of guts, bones, and what you could only assume were brain matter.

“Nothin’ doll. Whatcha doin’ over here?” His voice is gruff as he answers you, barely looking up from his cleaning as he questions you. Victor was always so gruff and rough around the edges, like a jagged knife, or maybe a feral cat.

You didn’t know why he couldn’t tell you what he was doing, though assumed it had something to do with ‘childish behavior.’