The Freak slowly rises from the floor, wiping the dust from his clothes with the same crazed look in his eyes. I do the same, my legs shaking under me.
"You could have killed me," I say under my breath, but the silence in the room makes my voice echo for a long time, loud enough for everyone to hear it.
The boy doesn't say anything for a moment, just brushes his floppy dark hair out of his eyes and gives a smile. "Oh yes," he drawls, "I could have." His eyes shift to the wall, then to me again. "But you moved out of the way. What a shame."
I don't know what comes over me first—everything seems to happen all at once. I feel fire coursing through my veins and the anger behind my eyes and in my head and before I know it, I have the Freak pinned against the wall opposite me, a wild look in his face. His eyes widen as I lift him up from the ground, using everything I have inside of me to push him harder against the wall.
And then I realize a second too late what I'm doing.
I let him drop quickly.
Trying to ignore the shocked looks on the faces around me, and the even shocked and scared look on the face of the Freak I just slammed against the wall, I stammer out, "Payback," with a slight jump to my voice to hide away the anger.
The Freak's features contours in rage so quickly I swear it might split his face in half. His dark, strange eyes burn into mine and his hands shake with the need to do that same thing to me again. I almost think he will, but he storms out of the room, the floor literally shaking in tune with his footsteps, using some of his anger to slam the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating around the room, around my head.
The remaining Freaks' heads are turned to look at the door, but Serena's eyes are on mine, a look of shock and worry evident in her features. The one look sends my heart straight into the ground, and I'm not even sure if I'll be able to get it back again.
I look down at the floor and then my hands, unclenching my fists and swallowing the anger still coursing through my veins.
* * *
I'm on my way back to my room when I feel her presence behind me.
"I can help you," Serena says as she sidles up next to me, nudging my arm playfully with her own.
"With what?" I turn my face to look at her, confusion on my face, though I have a feeling I know what she's going to say.
She smiles and looks down at the ground as she continues to walk beside me, biting her lower lip. "I saw you struggling while we were moving those objects around in training," she says quietly, turning her gaze to me and keeping it there. "I can help you train with the power, if you'd like."
I think about this for a moment. It would be good to have someone help me become stronger with this ability. I know I won't be able to do this by myself. I probably could, if I tried hard enough with enough patience, but I don't have that time now.
I need all the help I can get.
It's Serena's hopeful expression that forces my voice to speak. "That would be great," I say.
Now we are in my bedroom together, Serena beside me as I face the mattress, staring intently at the box of medical supplies. I raise my hand towards it, palm out, trying to remember what Serena did not even two minutes ago.
"Keep the box in the centre of your vision," she whispers, pressing slightly closer to me so she can speak into my ear. She looks over my shoulder at the object, seeing if it is in the centre of my vision, I'm guessing. I try to focus, but her proximity is making my head spin. She continues, saying, "Now, this is going to sound cliché as hell, but it truly works..."
I turn my head to look at her before she continues, listening intensely to her next words.
She smirks before she says, "Picture the object moving, and it will. Trust me."
I laugh a little and turn back to face the bed, doing exactly as she says. Within a couple of seconds, the box shifts, rattling the contents inside, and lifts off the covers of the mattress—
But then drops straight back down.
I let out a frustrated breath and take another one in, listening to my heart pound furiously in my ears. "I understand the objective of what I'm supposed to do," I say slowly, the words harsh and hoarse from the struggle with the box. "But it feels like I'm trying to carry ten of these things at the same time."
Serena nods slowly and steps closer to my bed, taking her warmth with her. She peers into the box and crosses her arms over her chest. "Okay..." She trails off, her head tilting. "This time, try and lift something out of the box. Anything you want." She comes and stands by me again. I try to focus, but her hair brushes against my arm as she moves and I feel my heart pound.
Without much struggle, I lift out a small but filled bottle of rubbing alcohol into the air, keeping it straight, making sure the liquid inside doesn't move around. The whole movement doesn't look natural, like I'm just picturing it in my mind.
"Very good," Serena says with a smile, her eyes watching the bottle as I lower it back into the box. "If you feel up to it, try the box again."
I roll my shoulders back and click my neck, breathing deeply through my nose. I shake out my hands like I hurt them. I think I'm doing this for dramatics only, but it's making me feel better.
I lift my arm up again—
But Serena stops me. She places her palm against my chest and presses down carefully, whispering, "Relax your chest." Her other hand comes to rest against my shoulder, her fingers slowly outstretched like she's grabbing hold of me. "Loosen your body. You feel really tense, Luca. Relax your muscles."
I try not to focus on her touch as I do what she says, letting my chest deflate and shoulders droop slowly. I breathe in deeply, letting it out of my mouth even when it sounds shaky and uneven.
"That's it." Her words are hot against my neck as she leans slightly closer to me, her hair still brushing against my arms. "Remember, don't feel the power here," she continues, her eyes fixed on mine as she gently points to the side of my head. "It's just for knowing where you want the object to go."
Her hand stays on my chest, pressing slightly harder and burning hot in the already-warm room. Her gaze still pierces into mine, an emotion I don't recognize staring back at me as she says, her voice like a whisper, "Feel the power here instead."
Then she steps away from me.
I instantly feel cold again.
I focus all my energy on the box, picturing what I need to in my mind. I feel the power running through my veins when I feel the box in my invisible grasp. If I close my eyes, it would be like I'm lifting the object with my hands, but I keep my gaze fixed firmly on the box, willing it to move.
And then, surprisingly, it does.
The movement takes a large amount of my energy, but I manage to lift it off the bed, hovering a good foot above the mattress for longer than three seconds. With a quick jolt of my hand, I lift it up higher, pushing the pain to the back of my mind. I focus all my concentration on the box alone, just like Serena told me to do, ignoring the feeling of my muscles straining along with my mind.
"Well done!" she exclaims, wrapping her arms around me when I let the box drop back onto the bed. "I knew you could do it."
I snake my arms around her and let out a little laugh, still not really believing I did it. "I eventually did it, but man did it hurt," I reply, leaning my cheek against the top of her head as the lingering pain subsides.
Serena pulls away slightly to look up at me, a smile still on her lips. "You'll get used to it. Soon you'll be able to lift the bed off the ground."
"One can dream."
She laughs and pulls away fully, and I can swear the movement feels hesitant, but I push it to the back of my mind as she says, "We'll keep practicing, don't worry. You won't do this alone."
I smile tiredly at her and squeeze her hand once. "Thank you for being so patient with me. A lot of the Freaks in training aren't."
She smiles again. "They just don't see your potential." She takes another step back, letting her fingers slip from mine. "You'd better get some sleep; you're looking really pale."
I nod slowly. "The pain is part of the job though, right?"
Her laugh echoes slightly in my room. "Not this much pain." She opens the door and steps outside, slowly turning around to face me again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Luca."
"See you tomorrow, Serena."
I find myself staring at the spot she just was long after the door is closed. I turn to face my bed, shoving the box back under it and collapsing face-first onto the covers, ready to end this extremely long, tiring day.
* * *
I am permitted a full night's rest after training with all fifteen of my abilities.
I must admit, I do feel stronger after knowing how to use them all properly. Something about the scars on my back and the power running through my veins makes me feel like I can do this. That I could really save the Freaks from that prison.
I trudge into the training room early the next morning, greeting Nathan with a frown as I make my way to the centre of the room. He has his large arms crossed over his larger chest and smirks at my slumped form while he stands upright, his posture mocking my own.
"Good morning, beautiful," he says with a smile, sarcasm dripping from each word.
I reply with an unintelligible response.
"Are you ready?" He steps to the side as I walk up next to him.
"I guess I am," I reply with a frown, stretching my back and wincing when one of the newly-clean wounds pulls painfully. I turn to look at Nathan, my frown lifting slightly. "What are we doing today, then?"
Nathan looks at the sparse training equipment scattered around the room, surveying them as if he's never seen the objects there before in his life. "You're going to do the whole circuit again," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Treadmill first."
I have my training clothes on again—the shorts and T-shirt and trainers—so I don't have to go into that storage room to change again. The Freaks even washed the clothes for me while I was training with my powers.
I head over to the same treadmill I used before, a cry of pain for my legs to stop as soon as I step atop the conveyor belt. I haven't even moved that much and I already want to jump off the machine and get back into bed.
Nathan moves to the stereo which is in the same place as it was before, pressing the Play button. The last song we were listening to two days' prior bursts from the speakers, halfway through the music, making me jump and clutch at the handrail of the treadmill beside me. Nathan starts the song again by pressing the Rewind button, laughing and shaking his head as the room goes quiet for a short moment before the music plays up again.
"Well," he says, turning his head to look at me, "that was extremely loud."
I give him a smile for his benefit and turn back to the control panel of the treadmill, pressing the Start button and getting ready.
And then the conveyor belt starts to move.
I speed walk for a couple of minutes before turning the speed up and running, running fast, my arms pumping at my sides, sweat already starting to form along my temples. I run with a course of energy I never knew I possessed before, somewhere deep down where it has been hidden for this long. If I stare at the wall in front of me, I can picture myself saving the Freaks from the prison. I can see myself taking down the organisation that has branded our people as monsters.
I see myself defeating them. One by one.
I start, stumbling against the treadmill and almost falling forwards but I stop myself just in time, grabbing hold of the handrail until my knuckles go white from how hard I'm squeezing the foam-covered plastic. I jump onto the spaces beside the conveyor belt, finally taking note of how hard my chest is heaving.
I turn my head and catch Nathan's eye. From the look on his face I am almost convinced he saw whatever was in my mind's eye, but I push the thought far away. I plaster an emotionless expression on my face and raise my eyebrows at him.
"You okay there?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest again.
"I'm fine," I lie quickly, my heart pounding in my chest for three different reasons. "I just lost my balance."
I can't tell him about what I saw in my mind. I just stare straight ahead again, concentrating on the running and making sure my heart doesn't burst out of my chest with how hard it's pounding against my ribcage.
I run and I run and I don't stop, even when I feel a burning sensation from the bottom of my feet, where a hole is threatening to be burned into the soles of my shoes if I don't slow down or stop.
But I don't stop.
I carry on running.
The edges of my vision start to blur but I push onwards anyway, intending to run all the tension in my muscles away. Despite the pain in my legs screaming for me to slow down, I turn the speed up one more—
And that's when the beep sounds from the machine, telling me the hour is up.
I press Stop and let myself slowly jog until I stop completely, leaning heavily against the handrail as I curse a stitch in my side. I press my hand against the pain and double over, hoping it eases the tension there.
When Nathan hands me over a cold bottle of water I don't say thank you straight away—I drink the whole thing in one gulp, the liquid feeling like it's traveling through rocks in my throat. I accidentally drop the empty bottle onto the ground but make no move to pick it back up as the plastic clatters off the side of the treadmill and rolls away. I watch the movement carefully, wishing that I could move off the machine like the bottle is now.
I don't say anything as Nathan comes and leans his back against the wall, staring at me with furrowed brows. "You probably would have died if I didn't give you that bottle of water."
I don't reply, but I don't look away from him. There's something in his expression that tells me he's going to say something else, but nothing comes out of his mouth for a long time.
Then he finally moves off the wall and leans his forearms against the treadmill, looking at me over the machine. "You didn't have to run so fast, Luca," he says, eyes shifting down to the control panel and back up. "I could see you turn the speed up. It's only your second day of doing this training; you don't want to strain yourself too much."
I give him only a small nod, not willing to open my mouth and say anything. I pushed myself too hard. Nathan saw that. But I only did it because it was the only way to convince myself that I'm not a worthless Freak; that I have all these new abilities and can do the job given to me by Sigma. I want to prove to them that the job they know is hard can be made easy by myself.
And only by myself.
"I'm sorry," I tell myself to say to him after a beat of silence. "I'll try to go slower next time." I'm only half-lying, I don't tell him. I want to go faster and faster until I can't breathe anymore, I will never tell him.
I move onto the weights next. I can do the curls easily now; I hardly feel anything as the weight rises and falls. I'm tempted to swap this weight for a heavier one, but Nathan still wants me to start off slow, gradually moving to the higher weights. It's a good system, I must admit, but I'm starting to get impatient with it.
I watch as Nathan picks the next weight down from the one I'm using and starts to curl it himself, more to make me feel less lonely than for himself, I'm guessing. He does the movement easily, even glancing around the room and leaning against the wall casually as his curls stay perfect, not one different from the others.
Nathan notices me staring when he turns back to look at me. He stops curling for a moment and switches arms, starting to do the same as he raises his brows in question.
"It's like you're a machine," I say incredulously, shaking my head slowly at him.
He shrugs, his lips curling into a small half smile. "I've been doing this for a long time." From the size of his muscles I think I believe him. He towers a couple of inches above me, and his shoulders are twice my size. If he frowned or shot mean looks at everyone, they would know not to mess with him. But his small smiles and the kindness behind his eyes makes him seem like a completely different person despite the size of his body.
After a few minutes, Nathan places the weight back onto the rack and turns to look at me again. "Keep doing the course," he says with a smile, slapping my shoulder once as he passes me. "You're doing great."