The Freaks

chapter nine

Serena tells me that they could have found more if they tried, but they didn't want to risk the Soldiers finding and capturing them. They still slowly find new Freaks scattered around, but it's too dangerous with them up above.

She also says that I'm the only one they have saved from the prison. They risked two of our own to make sure I survived. But that doesn't make me feel better; it doesn't make me happy. My suffering would have ended the moment they opened that trap door, but now it's just getting worse.

I realized a few things while I was training, as my mind wandered into dangerous territories: Sigma didn't want to save me; she wanted to save my powers. I wasn't the one who was rescued—what I can do is what was saved. I wish I knew then what I know now. Maybe I wouldn't have agreed to do this mission as fast as I did.

Serena pushes her empty can towards the centre of the table, slowly turning her body so she's fully facing me. "So," she starts, leaning her chin against her closed fist, "Sigma tells me that you're half-Italian."

"That's right," I say, quirking a small grin. "On my dad's side."

She gives me a smile herself. "Can you say something in Italian?"

I let out a laugh unintentionally, almost humorlessly. I haven't spoken Italian since my parents died. It's been so long since I've said a single thing, that I'm not sure if I even remember what Dad taught me.

But I turn my head and give Serena another smile as something pops into my head. "Mi dispiace, ma non parlo Italiano moto bene," I say slowly, watching her reaction.

She doesn't do anything for a good second as her eyes search mine, then she breaks into a smile that lights up her whole face. I have to blink so I don't stare for too long. "That's beautiful," she says, her words almost a breath. "What does it mean?"

I try not to smile too wide as I say, "It means: I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian very well."

She laughs. It makes me feel better for not wanting to say anything at all.

"I also know the basics, though," I continue once we stop laughing. "They're the first things Dad taught me."

I list off the basics when Serena asks for them, pronouncing them properly and slowly as Serena copies me.

Half an hour passes and we're able to exchange a very basic beginning of a conversation.

I lean closer to Serena's ear as I say, "If you were to speak to the entire room now and greet them, you would say, buona sera, which means good evening."

Serena repeats the word a few times out loud, then whispers it to herself. She cringes when she gets it wrong the first few times, then smiles when she gets it right.

My heart doesn't hurt like I thought it would as I spoke Italian. Even though I feel my dad's voice in my head as I teach Serena a few phrases and words, it doesn't sting and weigh heavy on my chest. I hope Dad would've been proud at the way I taught someone a basic conversation the way he taught me.

A long time passes when everyone finishes their food, but they are still sitting here like they have nothing else to do with their lives. I guess they don't really—what else can you do being stuck down here, with nowhere else to go?

Sometimes, if I don't focus too much, I can almost believe all of us here are normal people, with normal lives and parents and adults who care about us. But we aren't normal anymore. We haven't been normal for a long, long time. The scars on my back remind me of that.

A loud and quick bell rings around the main hall, silencing every conversation in a matter of seconds. The obnoxious noise echoes around the room long after it finishes, ringing annoyingly inside my still-pounding head.