Blood is Thicker...

Trigger warning: self harm

A cut, a gash, a graze, a slice, a slit, a wound. A splash, a dribble, a trickle, a drop. There were many ways to say what it was but it didn't matter what it was. All that mattered was his blood was banished from view and that it never, ever touched the ground. It was a rule, no matter the wound, it was to be sealed immediately. It was a strict order he had to follow ever since he could walk with both feet, one that had been embedded into his brain so hard it was an automatic response to come rushing over to his parents even for a paper cut.

When he was young he never questioned it. There was no reason to. He could vividly remember a time when his mother sat him down, bandaging a simple slice in his skin like his arm had been lost, convincing him the mere sight of blood was a sin and a sign of evil. She begged with tears in her eyes that he was to always, no matter the situation, not to let his blood touch the ground. As a hopeless and confused child, he agreed without much understanding, only that it was his mother's wish.

He was never like the other children in school. Not one showed the same act of disgust and panic at the sight of the captivating red substance within them. There may have been cries and wails, but it wasn't the same. He was the only one to scream and curse out the evil when he caught sight of the distressing liquid. It made him different, an oddity in this world. One that was alone.

He stood in the garden, staring into the beautiful night sky, speckled with bright lights. It was beautiful, and yet, deep down he felt despised, cursed, and betrayed. What made him different? What made his blood so wicked? Answers. It was all he wanted. His curiosity was growing, he was begging to see what lay beneath his skin. Without realizing he was doing it, he took the small knife in his hand and pressed it into his thumb, digging it deeper as his hunger evolved into an insufferable yearning to know the truth.

The crimson liquid slowly emerged, trickling down his hand with a peculiar warmth. He held out his hand, mesmerized at the fascinating liquid that had once been vile in his eyes but was now an unexplainable curiosity. It began dripping from his fingers into the grass, soaking into the soil, and his heart began pounding harder. Fear formed in the pit of his stomach at the realization of what he'd done. However, it was too late and his obsession with finding the truth wouldn't waver.

Something erupted from the ground, growing at a startling rate. It began with a stem breaking its way through the soil, then fresh leaves forming, and at the very tip, an elegant, vibrant flower. Red. Blood red. He stared, blinked, and eventually crouched down, peering at it from every angle. He was captivated by its beauty, but also it's the ability to grow so fast, it was somewhat freaky. More bloomed as the blood from his hands continued to drip, each one developing as quickly as the last.

"How could this be a thing of evil?" he muttered to himself, reaching out to touch one of the petals.

"Stay away from it!" a voice cried out in urgency. "Get away from it!"

His head spun around, his mother was there, sprinting towards him with panicked eyes. The patio door was wide open, his father was close behind her, but there was no panic in his eyes. Only fear.

"Mom, it's just a flower!" he began; turning his head back around. The flowers hadn't changed, they simply swayed in the breeze of the night.

Then everything went wrong. At first, the flowers seemed innocent, but their colors began shifting from their beautiful crimson - to a deathly black. One by one they turned, and one by one they perished.

"Get away from them!" his mother screamed, but he could only stare in horror.

Everything around him began to lose its color, fading from their flourishing colors to nothing but darkness. It spread and spread, like a plague, but it didn't just affect plants, it affected everything; insects, squirrels, birds.

He felt his mother's arms grab him, dragging him away in desperation, all while he fell limp, eyes staring ahead endlessly at the chaos he'd created.

His mother threw him on the patio and turned to watch the corruptness spread to the cement and stop.

"Why did it do that Mom?" he cried out hoping to get answers finally.

"Because that's who we are!" She said. She turned towards his father with a look that said 'what now?'

He shrugged and then walked to the edge of the patio and knelt down. He looked across the now vacant lot of pitch-black nothingness that used to be their back yard and stood up, walked inside, and closed the door.

Moments passed as his mother waited patiently for his father to return. After what seemed like ages his father popped out the door with a vile of green liquid and poured a drop onto the dead grass.

The leaves and grass sprang back to life and a wave of live spread to the fence limits correcting the wrong that had been done.

"That vile is all we have left to clean up any mistakes our blood cause," she explained. "We aren't originally from here," his mom said to him. He listened intently as his father sealed the vile and walked back inside.

"Where are we from?" he asked trying to keep his head from spinning with all the questions forming.

"Originally far from here, but our world was not a place for us anymore. My mom and dad brought us here to get away from our people and what they were doing to planets. We had you here, the first of our kind born on Earth." She said as she bandaged his arm.

"So my blood is toxic?" he asked softly.

"To the Earth, yes. To us and yourself, only when combined with the elements in the soil." She was relieved the wound was covered up now. "This is our family's secret you see, we need to blend in here to be free. I need you to do your part in helping us keep that priority, okay?" She looked at his face and tilted his chin up.

"Okay," he said, "I can keep a secret."

"And no blood." She replied hastily.

"And no blood," he copied.