"So Sigma obviously doesn't believe that I can do this by myself," I remark to Serena as she moves around behind me, cutting my hair. We are in another one of the abandoned trains, the sound of us talking and the snipping of the scissors echoing around the large tunnelled space.
Serena grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head and snips away at it, letting the dark locks to fall around me in thick clumps. "I think she does believe you can do this, Luca," she replies, her voice kind. "Sigma probably got Nox to do this with you because two people can help save the Freaks quicker from that prison."
I want to argue, but what would be the point? Nox is coming, full stop. He and I will be travelling above ground in a matter of a few days to complete this mission. But what I don't get about him coming is that why Nox in particular? It could have been any of the Freaks down here—like Serena or Nathan. Why Nox?
I ask the question aloud to Serena.
She hums to herself as she continues to cut away at my hair. "I guess it's because he knows what to expect up top," she finally says. "He and I went to get you and he's seen what it's like there, in the prison."
"So do I, though."
She sighs quietly. "I know you do. But you said you were taken by the Soldiers at age sixteen, right?"
I nod my head, swallowing the rock in my throat as memories of my friends being shot by the Soldiers come back to me. I blink away the images and focus on the seats opposite me, at the pattern stitched into the fabric.
"A lot has changed in two years since you were in that prison, Luca," she continues. "It was a quieter place two years ago. The Soldiers weren't as ruthless, since they didn't know what they were up against." She pauses, letting the words sink in. "That's why if we need to scavenge for supplies we do it quickly and one Freak at a time. It's too dangerous otherwise."
I swallow again, suddenly really nervous about going up top and pretending to be one of them. How can I pretend to be normal when I'm even more different from the people stuck down here?
Suddenly, Nox being with me doesn't sound as bad anymore.
But still, I say, "I'd rather you go with me."
I can't see her, but I hear a small and quiet laugh escape her—almost like a breath from her nose. "So would I," she says quietly.
Silence stretches on between us as Serena continues to work on my hair. It wasn't so long that I could pull it into a ponytail, but still too long for a Soldier. When it got too long I would brush the wayward strands off my forehead and let them cascade down the back of my head. My hair seems to grow like that now.
Serena passes me a small mirror when she's finished, still standing behind me. I can see her in the reflection, staring at her work with a small smile on her face. Her eyes meet mine and I smile back.
"It looks perfect," I say. I finger the short hair at the sides of my head and run my fingers through the slightly longer strands at the top of my head. I look at her in the mirror again. "You did an amazing job."
She smiles quickly before coming to stand in front of me, her smile no longer there, but a focused one in its place instead. She crouches down so she's my height, tilting my head this way and that—considering her work from the front, I'm guessing.
Back in Sigma's office we were discussing my appearance when Nox and I are up there, and she mentioned that I should keep the beard adorning my cheeks to make myself look even older than I already do.
Because the teenagers that were once in the world are no longer normal. They are being hunted down and killed at eighteen.
They are now us.
The Freaks.
My hands clench into fists at the reminder.
"You look really different now," Serena says, smiling as she meets my eyes again. "All that needs to be done is the last two stages and you and Nox will be able to finally get it over with."
The last two stages. I'm ready to face them, because they will be the easiest.
Nox is going through the same stage as me right now. He's having his hair cut and letting the light bit of stubble that is currently on his cheeks to grow into something that might resemble a beard.
It doesn't take long for Serena and I to clean up the hair scattered around the stool I was sat upon. We scoop it into a corner and I watch as Serena props the broom against the train wall and starts for the door, leaving the clump of hair abandoned.
I laugh lightly as I follow on her tail. "Are we just going to leave this?"
She shrugs and slightly turns her head to look at me. "Might as well. It's only hair. It's not going to hurt anyone."
I laugh lightly as we make our way back to the main room, heading straight for the next stage into becoming someone else.
* * *
Serena introduces me to a female Freak named Esmay who will be in charge of the next stage.
Esmay is a short girl, probably about a few inches shorter than Serena. She has her red hair tied back into a tight ponytail, the end strands swinging madly as she moves around me.
I watch as she mixes different coloured paints together with the end of an old paintbrush, smiling with satisfaction when it's the right shade—a strange dark blue.
We are in another train again. I'm sitting on the same stool that Serena used to cut my hair. She's here with me now, sitting about a foot away on the seats in front of me, staring at Esmay with her eyebrows raised.
"Okay," Esmay says, turning around to face me. "When you're ready, take your shirt off for me."
For a moment I hesitate, unsure whether I should or not. Serena has seen my scars before, even cleaned them up for me, but Esmay never has. What would she think of them? I wish I didn't care, but there's that small feeling at the back of my mind that makes my fingers stay planted against my lap.
Esmay and Serena both must sense my hesitation because they both turn their heads to look at me, their eyebrows raised in question.
"Sorry," I say to cover it up, "I was in a world of my own. What did you say?"
"Take your shirt off so I can paint your back," Esmay says again with a calm voice, smiling once as her blue eyes settle on me.
I place my shirt on my lap when I take it off, a strange cool wind making me shiver as it seeps into the welts on my back. Esmay doesn't say anything when she moves around behind me, but I hear her take in a sharp breath of air.
I suddenly wish I never took my shirt off in the first place.
"Won't this paint wash off?" I ask to distract Esmay from my wounds.
I hear her take a seat behind me. "No, it's some sort of body paint. It should last about two weeks, so hopefully you'll finish the mission by then."
"Hopefully," I mumble, leaning forward when Esmay presses her fingers against my shoulder and lightly pushes me down.
Then, after a few seconds, I feel the soft strokes of the brush against my skin. I flinch only slightly at the cool feeling of the paint against my back, but after a moment I get used to it.
The urge to see exactly what she's doing is almost overpowering the longer she continues to paint along my skin. But by the look on Serena's face as she goes back to sit down tells me exactly what I need to know.
"How's it looking?" I ask her softly.
She tears her gaze away from my shoulder to look at me, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiles. "It looks amazing."
The whole point of this is to hide my scars under a fake tattoo. I don't know how much it will cover, but I just hope the Soldiers don't notice the marks because then I'll be screwed.
But one thing at a time, I guess.
As the bristles of the brush pass over my wounds, the scars burn with the memory of what happened to me while I got them. I can still feel each ability coursing through my veins, through my blood. It was an unnatural feeling when I took my first, from Dara, but now I guess I'm used to it. Every single scar is a reminder that I am no longer normal, maybe even not human anymore. If I'm even more different than the Freaks around me, does that make me less human?
I shake the thoughts from my head, instead going back to focus on the brush strokes. I'm glad that I already have Esmay's ability, so that she doesn't have to deal with a wound bleeding out while she tries to work. Serena is here just in case if any of them start to bleed or something, but if I'm being honest I want her here with me even if she doesn't need to be. She's helping to keep my mind calm.
The next time I focus back into what Esmay is doing, I feel the brush down my lower back, swirling and creating patterns that I am dying to see. The cold paint no longer bothers me; it's making me cool inside the warm train.
For the past few hours we have been here, I can feel the paint drying along my skin. The markings don't feel unnatural along my back; when I move my muscles, I can feel the paint shift and ripple along with it. It's just like it was always there in the first place.
It's like an actual tattoo.
"I'm almost finished now," I hear Esmay whisper, her tired sigh blowing along my back.
"Take your time," I say, looking up at Serena who is still looking at my fake tattoo with amazement. "There's no need to rush."
Then Esmay goes back to painting my skin, the brush strokes slower this time, more precise. At one point, she presses her little finger against a blank spot on my back as she paints smaller designs between the larger ones, and it makes me even more desperate to see them.
Another half an hour or so passes. She finishes at the small of my back, extending the tattoo to make it look natural, she says to me.
The position I'm in is making my back ache, but I stay still for Esmay's benefit. I keep my arms pressed firmly against my thighs, staring at the seat in front of me and imagining how much more comfortable it would be to sit there instead of this hard stool. But I don't complain out loud.
I have much more important things to worry about.
I hear Esmay place the paintbrush back into the container and heave a heavy sigh that I feel against my back. "All done," she says. She gets up from the seat and tells me to do the same. She turns me around when I'm stood up, moving me this way and that with my arms.
"Definitely all done?" I ask, trying to look at her over my shoulder but she is too short. She comes up to about the middle of my back.
"Actually—not yet," she breathes, then swipes something from the seat next to her that I didn't see in time. "I just need to paint over a clear protective, skin-friendly layer so that the paint won't rub off on your clothes." Then I suddenly feel the even colder substance against my back and I almost flinch.
"Do you want me to sit down?" I turn my head again so she can hear me.
"It's fine," she says. "Just keep still."
She makes swiping motions all along my back, from the left to the right and moving down quicker than when she did the tattoo. She tilts me forward slightly as she gets further down my back. My muscles want to protest against the position but I keep myself quiet, knowing—again—that I have more important things to worry about.
Esmay finally finishes.
She exhales another loud breath but laughs straight afterwards, moving me forward so she can see her work properly. "I'm finished now," she says, her voice just above a whisper. "Finally."
I turn around and smile down at Esmay. "Thank you," I say, looking up at Serena who has a bigger smile on her face.
"You are welcome," she says and hands me over a medium-sized mirror, moving around me with her own mirror. She lifts it up and motions for me to do the same, showing me the reflection of my tattoo with the mirror I am holding in front of me. It's hard to see exactly what the tattoo looks like, because I am seeing it backwards and only small parts of it, but I can already tell it looks amazing.
I can't even see where the scars should be.
"It looks absolutely amazing," I say, looking at the mirror for a couple more moments before handing it back to her.
"Thank you very much." Esmay smiles as she stacks up the items atop each other, turning around to face me when she hoists them up into her arms. "Wait five minutes before you put your shirt back on," she says. "The clear layer still needs to dry."
"No problem." I nod once, lowering myself into the comfortable seat. "Thank you again."
Esmay nods and quickly gives Serena a hug before exiting the train, leaving us alone.
Serena is the first one to speak up. "It does look amazing," she says.
"It really does, doesn't it?"
She moves closer to me and turns my shoulders so she can see it clearer. She doesn't touch my back, but somewhere in my mind I want her to. I want her to move closer and trace the markings with the tips of her fingers and then—
I shake the thoughts from my head.
"In five minutes you can move onto the final stage," she says, distracting me from my mind. "Are you ready?"
I turn back around to face her, catching and holding her gaze as I say, "As ready as I'll ever be."