The light was blinding.

   I had been sitting in a plastic cup in the refrigerator for over seven months now.  Icy water surrounded me, slowly returning to room temperature.  Both of my leech brothers, unnamed, lie dead at my side, rotting slowly in the warm water.    

My only living friend, Bag Of Bones, is also the only one of us with a name.  He took it when a large, hairy hand picked him up and mumbled, in a slow, deep voice, “Ha!  Look at this bag of bones!  C’mere, look, he’s tiny!”

Another male human had walked over, taking a glance, but it wasn’t at all interested.    

Obviously, the human had been referring to my friend when he said those words, so it was to be his name, now and forever.

Me?  I didn’t have a name.  Both of my parents had been sold in their own plastic cup, and I supposed they were dead by now.  Not all leeches survived as long as me.  You already know of my brothers’ fates.  But I was strong, a fighter.  Also, I had a stronger stomach than most.  Meaning, when the other leeches died, and I was hungry… well, I had thought about taking on the name Cannibal.  This also means I am a much larger leech than most.

Now we are being jostled around.  The plastic cup is moving in the man's hand. We are in a large vehicle, going straight into the unknown, never to return.

An hour later, we are at a lake.  Our cup is now on an old, rusted rowboat, and the two male humans are rowing to the middle of the lake.  Then, the cup is opened.  I am suddenly afraid, for the thinner of the two humans is staring down at me with a maniacal light in his eyes.        

“Hey, lookit this fat bloodsucker, Joe!  Betcha I can catch a bigger pike than last time with this ‘un.  He’s so fat, he might weigh almost as much as you.”  He roared with laughter.

That was my name!  Bloodsuckerjoe!  It must be, because the human had been looking very obviously at me, and I must say, I am quite a good-looking, fat leech.

Then fat, callused fingers reach in and grab me, squeezing so hard I have no hope for escape.

A sharp pain entered my side, stabbing right through my skin.  Ooohhh, the pain.  It hurts, it hurts so much.  I am lowered into the water, dangling from a long line.  I struggle to get free, writhing in pain and agony.  The barb at the end of the hook is the only thing keeping me on.

Out of the black waters, a pumpkinseed swims up on me, tail flashing, with his mouth open wide.  He is going to eat me, I know it.  I am going to die.  My eyes squeeze shut, and I wait for the killing blow, still squirming around.  Blood is gushing out of my wound, drawing the pumpkinseed in faster.

Suddenly, I pop off the hook, and I can swim.  And swim I do.  I swim hard, swimming for my life.  Faster than ever before, not bothering to crawl along the sandy bottom as I usually do.

And I hear the thin man say one last thing, and it fuels my anger.

“Oh, that’s just one bloodsucker, Joe.  Not important.”

And I’m free.

Two days later...