M-13

Mistakes

Silas' POV:

Waking up in a pool of sweat with my arm itching and aching as it did when I was first marked is nothing new. However, it still leaves me breathing heavily with sweat pouring down my face, the entire room around me dark because the sun has not risen yet.

I was four when I got my first tattoo... not that I remember it much at all, because I was four, but in the back of my mind, I can still feel that stinging needle connecting with my chubby baby arms, the same way I wake up feeling the itch and pain when I wake up.

Even now, I can feel that pain, and it has been eighteen years since then. I feel like the pain was worse than any other pain, because I was young and innocent, not marred by a world that hates me for some genetic malfunction that one of every three million people has.

I am what's called a Mistake; now, before you laugh, believe me when I say that I am not making a joke. My parents never hated me, they never saw me as a Mistake, but using the word "inhuman" is too Marvel-like, and "metahuman" is stealing from The Flash. And of course, the world in 2025 is not too creative, so all of the ones who were born with the malfunction are literally called "Mistakes."

Sure, there is a proper name for the malfunction, but it's lengthy and doesn't have the same spark as calling us Mistakes.

We aren't even unique in any way; all of us got the same telekinetic abilities, but most of us do not live past age seven, so it is pretty difficult to know if anyone gets a special add on ability as they age.

Contrary to what the movies and TV shows say, we do not have difficulty controlling our abilities, unless we are in severe pain or are being released from a holding cell and have the cuffs that restrict our abilities removed.

I have never had difficulties with mine; the only reason that they figured out I was one of the Mistakes has everything to do with the test every child at the age of three has to take part in, including brain scans, blood tests, and a plasma drawing.

Then, if you are one of the lucky ones and don't have the malfunction, you get to go home and live a normal life. If you end up like me and have the malfunction... well, you are put through the same tests once a month for a full year in order to confirm that the test was not off or damaged, and then you get tattooed on your left wrist with a number, preceded by the letter "M."

Mine is M-13, meaning I was the thirteenth child born in 2003 to have been identified as one of the malfunctioned ones. I believe there were seventy four kids born in 2003 who were identified, but I haven't met any of them, since that is a worldwide number, not a state or nationwide number.

I am twenty two now, and I have tried to adapt to be a normal person, but the stupid, broad symbol on my arm has kind of revealed itself to my hometown and everyone knew who I was without knowing my name.

I'm not allowed to leave the country, there are stores I cannot go into because people like me aren't welcome... everyone says that we're a progressive world, but that progression is swiped under the rug when it comes to someone who can move shit with their mind.

Not that I blame the world for their fear, but how am I more dangerous than a psychopath with a gun? Hell, no one is scared until they see the mark on my arm!

I moved away from home four years ago, since my dad is a wealthy lawyer and decided to go ahead and pay for an apartment for me so I could get a fresh start away from home in Portland, Oregon, since the city is pretty big and it's known to be accepting of people like me.

However, it does not say in the brochure that "accepting" translates to "fetishizing anyone with the malfunction" because somehow everything can be fetishized in Portland.