Code 61

Chapter 4

They weren't going to release me.

The thought didn't sink in until I was already hours into confinement. The room was sparse, save for the bed protruding from the wall. There was a toilet and sink in the corner. It was fairly spacious but empty, almost as large as my apartment. The overhead light was too bright as if to compensate for the lack of windows. The room had a sterile feel to it like the clinical scent of a slow death.

I sat on the bed and pulled my knees closer.

This was it then.

I had spent my whole life trying to make up for the fact that I was born differently. The stigma of being an aberrant robbed me of my childhood. Life was cruel that way.

As if to rub salt on the wound, the memory of my parents' death surfaced. I tried to push it away but it only made the memory that much more tangible. It materialised before me and in an instant, I was back in our apartment.

I could smell the burnt fabric that hung in the air like a permanent fixture in the room. I didn't know it then but the scent actually emanated from me, as if my skin ran too hot all the time. It had been two weeks since my seventh birthday.

My parents should've realised it as a warning sign that I was young to control my abilities. They said I was colicky as a baby, and as a kid I had been temperamental. My parents weren't exactly strict with me but after the birthday cake incident, I suddenly found myself being kept away from the outdoors.

My seven-year-old mind couldn't begin to comprehend just what it meant to be an aberrant just yet. That I was a danger to everyone including myself. I couldn't accept the fact that I was being held back from playing with my

It sounded so shallow in retrospect. My entire childhood had become nothing but ashes in my desperate attempt to hold on to it. Pun not intended. A funny thought.

That night I lay in my bed crying from anger. How else could a seven-year-old express himself other than crying and throwing a tantrum? I was so angry that I didn't even think about the consequences of a small fireball against the carpet. It quickly caught fire. The next thing I knew, the entire room was consumed by flames, eating away at the wood panels that separated my bedroom from my parents'.

I didn't know it then, but extreme emotions were something I had to avoid.

I survived the fire that razed the entire block to cinders, but in some ways, I never left the building. Years later, I still dreamed of those flames that never touched me while I cried helplessly in a burning room.

I didn't even realise I was crying until the tears hung in heavy drops at the edge of my chin. Shaking my head, I wiped the tears harshly as a bitter chuckle escaped my lips. Devoid of humour. After all, my life was a joke and I was the punchline.

My reverie was broken by a commotion outside. Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked through the square glass panel on the door. The hallway seemed empty save for the voices that sounded like they were arguing. Two voices, I counted. They were still too far away for me to make out the words but as they approached, they took shape.

"... could teleport, I would've gone with them." The voice was deep, authoritative.

The other person replied to him teasingly, "Aww hyung, too bad for you, I'm the only one who can teleport."

Aberrants. What were they doing roaming the halls? The bigger question was what were they doing in this facility?

"Are we even sure he's here?" The first guy asked. I pressed my ears closer to the door, wondering who they were talking about. "Jongdae, can you stop yelling into the mic? I can hear you fine. Yeah, door number 18?"