"Yeah, I have always wanted a pet. Dad never thought I was up for the responsibility," Tom explains as his hand reaches toward you. You close your eyes, fearful after your previous treatment. To your surprise, you feel a finger stroke over your hair. "Helps you are nearly impossible to kill, so you will survive if I forget to feed you or Emma finds you," he continues as his thumb dips to stroke under your chin. The gentleness makes you relax a bit, but the comment about 'Emma' isn't reassuring.
"Who's Emma?" you ask, proud that your voice didn't quake.
"My little sister. She puts everything in her mouth. She's teething so it wouldn't even hurt anyway." You open your eyes as Tom stops stroking you. He picks you up again, much more carefully now. "Actually I should probably be more worried about mom. She hates little guys; bugs, pest, anything that could be a bother. She should warm up fast though." Tom sits down on the bed, dropping you a couple inches in front of his crossed legs. "Dad's the strict one, but he will bend if my mom insists."
"Anyone else in the family?"
"Not really. I have a brother in college and a couple cousins that might drop by. No one else my age though," Tom tells you, looking around the room instead of you. "You can meet my friends this weekend. Eric is going to be so jealous," he absentmindedly says. He gets up off the bed again, causing you to fall forward with the mattress springing back in place. Pushing yourself up to look where he's walking off to. He is digging through some container on top of his dresser. You consider running, but the memory of being stepped on keeps you in place.
A moment later, Tom is walking back to you. In his hand is a...
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