The Freaks

chapter four

There's only one bed in this room.

I take a few steps into the space and immediately my shins touch the edge of the mattress. There's not even room for a set of drawers. The walls have been painted an off shade of white roughly, like they want to create the illusion of the room looking bigger, but it somehow looks smaller.

"You're lucky," Serena says from near the door, like she can feel the emotions rolling off me. "The rest of the Freaks have to sleep in the trains together."

"Poor them," I mumble quietly under my breath, running the thin covers through my fingers. I drop the material and turn to face Serena who's leaning against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. The wound on my back pulls painfully when I stretch too far, but I don't show it on my face. "Why am I in this room, then? Shouldn't I be in one of the trains with the other Freaks?"

Serena laughs lightly and takes a step closer to me, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her trousers. "Since you're the newcomer and you need to—" She stops herself, her face dropping as she coughs, turning away from looking at me.

"I need to, what?" I ask, looking intently at her even though she's not looking at me. She doesn't look up at me, slowly biting her lower lip as she takes a small step back. "I need to, what, Serena?"

She smiles as she turns to face me. "You need to get your rest," she finishes. "You have a big day tomorrow."

I want to ask her what she means. I want to ask why she hesitated while speaking, but I don't say anything. I just give her a strange look, nod my head once and drop my arms back to my sides, turning around to face the bed again.

The need to drop face-first onto this mattress is almost overpowering. I didn't have a proper bed in the prison—just a hard mattress with a folded blanket for a pillow and an even thinner blanket for a cover. The thing was always damp and smelled of blood and urine from previous uses, maybe from a Freak. I was too afraid to think about what could've happened with the blood.

"Luca," Serena breathes quickly, and I suddenly feel her closer—like if I were to turn around, we would be face-to-face. I don't turn around as she continues, saying, "Your wound is still bleeding."

I turn my head slightly to look at her over my shoulder, but I don't see much. "Is it?"

I feel her pull the collar of my uniform away from my neck, trying to get a better look down my back. "Yes, it is—"

I move forward, letting the material snap back to normal. "It's fine, Serena," I argue, only half-lying as I shake my shirt back to cover over the marks. "It's not too bad. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Okay," she says, moving her hands to the back of her trousers again. "We'll just let it get infected." She pauses, continuing to look at me with a tilt of her head. "And you can die a slow, painful death." She waves a couple of fingers at me as she moves backwards, towards the door. "It was nice knowing you."

I know what she said was a joke. I know as well as the other Freaks that they are perfectly clean cuts and not serious enough to get infected. Serena must know that because she has one herself. We all do.

Whatever age we were when we got our abilities, we also got given a scar to remind us of that; that we are Freaks and always will be. I don't know how it happens, but it just does. If I could picture it happening in my head, it would probably be like someone slicing down your back an inch or so with an invisible sharp knife. The pain only lasts for a few seconds, but after we're left with these. A Freak only has one scar because they only get given one ability.

But not me.

I was given one scar when I got my ability, but I keep getting scars because I'm able to take the Freaks' abilities.