FREAK

Chapter 1

She had been sold?
Over and over again, the freak repeated this to herself, still unwilling to believe it. Nobody wanted an older freak, nobody. They wanted the younger ones who they could train until they got too old and were sent away. She had worked with these younger freaks for as long as she could remember – it was the one reason why she hadn’t been sent away. But now she was sold. A man had called and offered money to buy the oldest freak there. The money had been transferred that morning and she would be picked up in an hour.
And she still couldn’t believe it.
She grabbed her necklace and looked to the mirror. She wasn’t supposed to. It was illegal for freaks to be this close to one. But the headmistress had forgotten about it long ago, and besides, it wasn’t a very good mirror anyway. It had lost most of its silver lining so that shapes and details were impossible to make out. All that remained were colors. The room was white—everything was white, but if she squinted, she could see herself: a yellow blur with red and purple streaks striped across her body. Her eyes were two tiny brown blobs.
Her mouth was indistinguishable.
The freak glanced nervously at the door. The headmistress had promised to be back soon, but that had been fifteen minutes ago and she still hadn’t returned. From the room, she could hear the headmistress yelling at the little ones in the kitchen. They had tried to steal some food, but the headmistress had caught them. They would be sent away.
The freak shifted her weight and twirled the necklace around her fingers, fingering the silver dog tag that hung on the chain. On one side in worn letters was the word “FREAK” and on the other side was a blur of numbers. She smiled at the dog tag and flipped in over with her fingers until she got bored with that. Once more, she stepped to the mirror. She smiled and watched her fingers dance along her reflected face.
The house turned quiet. Her hands shot to her sides and she turned to the door. A minute later, the headmistress clambered up the stairs and into the room, holding a tin of kerosene and scissors. She frowned at the freak. The freak stared.
“Sit.”
The freak sat down. The headmistress grabbed the freak's hair. “Stay still.” She yanked the freak’s hair back and snipped it off. The freak remained motionless. Once there was a pile of hair on the floor, the headmistress stopped and glanced at the freak.
“You’re hideous.”
The freak said nothing, but her lips trembled and she put one hand through her hair.
The headmistress frowned. “Stop that.” She took the kerosene tin out. “Close your eyes.” The freak shut her eyes, just as kerosene began to trickle down her hair and face. The headmistress clicked her tongue twice before scrubbing the kerosene into her hair. “That should kill them.” She tied on a dirty handkerchief and looked at the freak critically.
The freak stared back.
“You mustn’t do that with your new master, you mustn’t stare at him,” the headmistress said. “He will not be used to it. He will send you away if you don’t please him, you know that.”
At those words, the freak’s pupils widened. She opened her mouth to say something.
“Exactly,” the headmistress continued. “You don’t want that to happen, do you? You don’t want to be sent away? You know it’s worse than death?”
The freak shut her mouth and nodded.
“Good. I got something for you.” The headmistress grabbed a small bundle the freak hadn’t noticed before and tossed it to her. “It’s a dress,” she said.
The freak picked it up. The dress was an ugly gray, but the weave was sturdy and she guessed that it wouldn’t tear easily. She flicked a nit off.
“Well? Put it on.”
The freak nodded and quickly pulled it over her head. She turned back to the headmistress and curtseyed.
The woman frowned. “Hideous, but at least somewhat feminine. Somewhat.”
The freak curtseyed again, sneaking a glance at the mirror, while the headmistress stared. “If he should see you like this, he will demand his money back,” she said. “He will say you are not worth the money and you will be dead.”
The freak turned, alarmed. She opened her mouth and closed it.
The headmistress looked thoughtful. “I have an idea,” she said, walking out of the room. A minute later, she came back with a sheet of brown paper. The freak cocked her head.
“Sandpaper. Stay still.” The headmistress grabbed the freak’s chin and scrubbed her cheeks. The freak cried out and tried to wriggle away, but the headmistress just held her tighter.
Finally she stopped and let go. The freak was shaking. Her cheeks were raw and they stung horribly, but at least they were redder. The headmistress nodded. “You look all right now—shut up.” The freak quieted.
The headmistress frowned. “Now, listen, you should not tell him anything that went on here. A politician like him should not be trusted—you know that.” The freak nodded. The headmistress’s frown deepened.
“He wants you to serve his daughter. You are to appear amiable, friendly, and, to all accounts, obedient, do you hear? You are to treat her kindly. Do you understand?”
A strange look came into the freak’s eyes. She nodded. The headmistress squinted at her. “He is giving a lot of money to us, you know, we mustn’t disappoint him.” The freak’s eyes went big and her hand flinched, but she said nothing and looked to the floor.
The headmistress turned to the clock and frowned. “He will be here any minute. He does not want to wait inside so you will meet him outside. You have two minutes to be outside.”
The freak nodded numbly.
“Get out.”
She nodded again and staggered down the stairs.
It was quiet.
She made sure to walk as slowly as she could. The rooms were white—everything was white. Even the vinyl floor, torn beyond repair, was white underneath all the grime. When she passed the bedrooms, she hoped the other freaks would come to see her for the last time, but it was quiet and no one came. She guessed the headmistress had put them down.
When she came to the front door, the freak stopped, her legs growing heavy. She turned back at the headmistress.
The headmistress frowned and opened the door.
“Get out,” she said. The freak took one small step forward. “Get. Out.” The headmistress grabbed her arm and threw her outside.
The door slammed shut.

*

Chapter 2

The freak landed on the stairs. It took her thirty seconds to catch her breath and another minute before she finally moved. She winced and sat up, blinking away tears.
Behind her was the house, a peeling, two-story monster that she had lived in for all her life, surrounded by rusty barbwire fence. The freak stood up slowly and limped to the gate, which was cracked opened. Beyond the fence there was a row rundown apartments. Sometimes she could hear screaming coming from the buildings, but now it was quiet.
She paused as she neared the gate. She wasn’t worried about anyone coming inside; nobody would come into a place with so many freaks. But freaks were never allowed to go anywhere beyond. She looked through the chain link fence and shivered. It was empty aside from the trash that walked the streets. As she watched, an old newspaper charged down. The freak glanced up at the apartments across from her. They were ugly buildings with peeling white paint, crammed so close together that she wondered if the people there leapt through each others’ windows, just to say hello. She turned back to the newspaper.
It landed in the gutter.
She frowned and tiptoed outside, searching for any cars that might be her new master’s. The headmistress had forgotten to ask what it looked like, but that was all right. Since he was rich, the freak guessed he had a lovely car that was a light blue, streaked with green and maybe, if he were really rich, with pink as well. After all, those were pretty colors and if he were rich, why wouldn’t he buy pretty things?
There were no cars in sight, not even ugly ones. The freak put her back to the fence, holding the chain links in one hand and her dog tag in the other. Her eyes drifted to the sky. It was gray, but every minute or so, the factories nearby would groan and a burst of orange flame would shoot up.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and there was still no car. The freak shivered and clutched her dog tag harder still, wondering whether her new master was coming at all. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t show up. He had already arranged the payment to arrive today, so the headmistress would be happy with whatever happened, unless he returned her. But if he didn’t come, the freak knew that the headmistress wouldn’t keep her. Instead, she would be sent away…
An hour passed and the freak became even more anxious. She tried to stay still, pressing herself deeper into the fence, but her eyes kept glancing at the buildings that surrounded her. If other people saw her outside—well, they wouldn’t like that at all.
It was thirty minutes later when a black sedan drove up and stopped in front of her. At first, the freak thought it was a mistake. The car was much too ugly for to be his, she knew that. She shied away, her grip on the fence becoming tighter. Then, after a minute, she stepped up uncertainly and waved her dog tag to the purple-tinted window.
The car door opened.
The air that came from inside was cold and as soon as it touched her skin, goose bumps erupted all over her arms. She backed away, hoping to get away from the cold when she saw a man inside, blinking out at the sun. When he saw her necklace, he frowned. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”
The freak curtseyed. “Please sir, are you my new master, sir?” Her voice was barely a squeak.
This question seemed to irritate him. “Of course I am. If I wasn’t, why would I pick you up?” The freak’s eyes widened and she nodded quickly.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down.” He gestured to some rags beside him.
The freak’s face turned white. She glanced at the rags, layered neatly on each other, and then at the man, an arm’s length away from the rags, his face unreadable. “There?” she asked. She felt dizzy.
“Would you rather be tied to the roof?” When the freak squeaked and jumped back, he shook his head and pointed to the rags once more. “Sit down.”
She sat.
“Very good.” The man signaled the driver and leaned back, frowning.
It was quiet.
The freak was terrified. Freaks were never supposed to be this close to normal people. At first, she curled into a little ball, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, but as time passed without a word, she peered out, first at his gleaming black shoes and then, finally, to his face.
His face shocked her. It wasn’t that he was unattractive—his suit hung on him pleasantly enough. But his face! When he was younger, it might have been handsome, but now his jaw was drawn tight and his skin looked so old and yellow that she thought it might peel off at any moment. And his eyes looked so tired.
She wanted to say something nice to him, but she wasn’t sure what, so she looked out the window instead. Everything was purple and distorted through the tinted glass and the urban buildings had become purple monsters with gleaming glass teeth. She leaned over and let her breath fog up the window.
“What are you doing?”
The freak jumped and shrunk back into her seat at his voice. “Nothing, sir.” He frowned and turned away.
She didn’t dare move.
The farther they drove, the more upset the gentleman appeared to be and the more he openly stared at her. Finally, he turned to the freak.
“And what is that smell?”
The freak was surprised. “Sir?”
“That smell. It’s coming from you.” The freak was too shocked to say anything. She sunk into her seat. “It’s kerosene, isn’t it?” His voice was getting shriller and he sounded more upset. “Why would anybody put kerosene on a freak?”
The freak replied that she didn’t know, but she was very sorry. This quieted him and he stared moodily ahead.
Finally he turned back to the freak. His face flinched—the freak guessed in disgust—and he said with a forced politeness, “Do you know what your duties are?” She shook her head. “First of all, my daughter Sarah is not a little girl, she’s fifteen.”
The freak’s mouth dropped open. “But sir!”
He scowled at her and she sunk back into her seat. “Apparently, there was a slight miscommunication between your mistress and myself. But my daughter is not a little girl, nor do I want her to be treated as one. She is a woman and she desires respect and a companion, though she is unaware of this fact yet. She also needs discipline, although unaware of this fact also.”
She winced. “Please sir, I don’t understand.”
The gentleman sighed. “Never mind that, you’ll understand the situation soon enough. What is important is that you are here. And for now, that is enough.”
The freak stared at him.
She wanted to speak with him, to ask him a question, but when she opened her mouth, the gentleman turned away and refused to look at her, even when she coughed politely. After making sure his breathing was steady and his face was unperturbed, she turned to the window, watching fields of purple fly past.
Finally, just as the silver mountains threatened to swallow them up, they turned onto a country road that went through a wild grassy meadow and stopped. At first, the freak couldn’t figure out why, but when she looked out at the front window, she gasped, shrinking into the seat. Starring back at her was the biggest house that she ever saw. Tall and white, it loomed in front of her, peering at her curiously with large glassy eyes, its smile enveloped by a large grassy field.
“Aren’t you coming out?”
The freak started at the gentleman’s words and blushed, her eyes darting wonderingly about the car. The driver was already walking away and the two of them were left alone together. She shrunk in her seat and looked at the gentleman desperately.
He frowned. “This is your first car ride, isn’t it?” When she said nothing, he opened his door. “Come, follow me.” Then, without looking back, he headed towards the house.
She scrambled to catch up with him, but he walked too quickly and she was too weak to be fast. When he arrived at the door, it was all she could do to cry, “Sir!”
The gentleman stopped at the sound of her voice and watched her stagger up the stairs and finally to his side. She panted heavily, looking up at him. “Please sir, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” When the freak hesitated, he shook his head. “I would have waited.” With that, he pushed the door open. “Welcome home, Freak.”
She gasped. It felt like she had walked into a dream. Soft chairs and sofas were turned toward each other, colorful yarn blankets tossed haphazardly across them. And instead of a peeling white paint, the walls were made up of rich maple panels, decorated by pictures of bright antique airplanes, swirling in lovely blue skies.
In the middle of the room, a big woman in her late fifties adjusted some pillows on the oversized chairs. The gentleman coughed and stepped forward.
“Elsa?”
The woman wheeled around, frowning. “What do you want?” And then she saw the freak. Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back. “What is that?”
The man nudged the freak forward. “Please, I would like you to meet Elsa, the head housekeeper. Elsa? This is the freak.”
The freak nervously straightened out her dress and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, madam,” she squeaked. “It is very nice to meet you.”
Elsa looked sick.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “What happened to her? She looks terrible. Oh my. She is such a delicate thing. I thought you were buying an older freak?”
“She is an older freak,” the man said coolly. “The oldest one I could find. She’s just a little underdeveloped, that’s all.” He turned to the freak. “Give me your dog tags.”
Instantly the freak’s hand shot up to her necklace. “Sir,” she began.
He shook his head. “I know,” he said sympathetically. “It’s illegal for you to take them off. But this is only for a moment. I won’t let you get in trouble, not for this. Come now.”
She reluctantly took off her necklace and handed it to him, her neck feeling strangely bare. He peered at the dog tag and nodded. “According to this, she is twenty years old.”
Elsa gasped. “Twenty! She looks twelve. And she is supposed to be in good condition? Oh dear! Have you checked her teeth? You should always check for things like that. Oh, why would you pick a freak without looking at it first?”
He shrugged. “It’s too late now. What would you like me to do? Send her away?”
The freak cried out in alarm and stepped back. Fortunately, Elsa had the same reaction.
“No, no, you needn’t send her away. Oh dear, no. If anything, kill her instead. That would probably be the nicest thing you could do. She’s been through enough already.”
“Perhaps. But she’s a freak. They heal quickly. She’ll be fine.”
“I suppose.” Elsa sighed and glanced around the room. “Look, if I can get another servant to finish up this room, I can at least clean her up so she smells somewhat decent. You would like that, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”
The freak’s eyes went wide and she stepped back. The man frowned.
“You are not to call her by a name. She is a freak.”
Elsa snorted. “Oh, bother! Rules, rules, rules. Always such a nuisance. I bet if they didn’t starve her, she would look plenty human enough.”
He sighed. “Elsa, that talk is unacceptable here. You know better.”
“Oh, I know plenty of things. But this isn’t right, sir. This just isn’t right. And you won’t even let her die honorably.”
“Elsa...”
When he was sure that Elsa would not say anything more, the man took out an envelope from his pocket and tore it open, taking out a shiny dog tag. He turned to the freak. “This dog tag signifies that I am your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
He nodded and clipped on the dog tag, putting the chain back around her neck. “Go with Elsa. She’ll help you.” The freak curtseyed.
“Thank you, sir.”
She might have said more, but Elsa touched her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

Chapter 3

The freak wanted to see the rest of the house, but Elsa walked so quickly that all she could see were blurs of brown walls. Finally, just when the freak thought she would collapse, Elsa stopped.
“You’re going in here.”
Elsa opened the door and the freak stumbled in.
“It’s not as pretty as the other bathrooms, but it’ll serve very nicely for our purposes.” The freak stared. The walls were covered in light green tiles and the floor was layered with such an assortment of mismatched towels that the colors were overwhelming. Elsa kicked away the towels and turned on the bathwater. She wrinkled her nose. “Kerosene, isn’t it? What a stupid woman your owner was.” She put her hand under the faucet and frowned. “Yes, this is good. Strip off those horrid things and come in.”
The freak took off the dress carefully. “It’s new,” she said.
Elsa snorted. “Here.” She picked up the dress and threw it aside. “We’ll get you something better. Now get in the bath and hold still. I’m going to shave your head.”
It took hours. By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, the freak’s fingers felt like pale yellow raisins. She rubbed her hands together while Elsa wrapped a fluffy pink towel around her shoulders.
“Now, to find clothes for you.” She glanced at the freak and frowned. “You’re such a small thing. It’s going to be difficult to fit you. Wait a minute, I’ll be back.”
When Elsa came back, she was carrying an armful of colorful clothes that was so tall that her head barely poked out of them. The freak stared.
“Are those for me?”
Elsa let the clothes drop. “If they fit. It’s Sarah’s old stuff, but she never wore it. Come on, pick something you like.”
The freak was speechless.
After a couple of minutes of struggling, she found a lovely yellow dress that smelled like soap and a little green hat with a faded pink flower on top. She adjusted the flower, trying to make the petals bloom just right, and tried not to prance through the hallways behind Elsa. It was hard not to—everything was lovely. From the dark mahogany floors to the pine wood panel walls, the freak felt as if she had landed into a dream world. It was too soon when Elsa finally stopped at a door and unlocked it, nudging the freak in.
“Good luck,” Elsa grunted.
The door closed.
And purple was everywhere. In the carpet, in the curtains, on the walls—even the large white couch in the center of the room was covered in purple quilts and blankets. They weren’t the same purples, of course. Some were the light purples of a healing bruise, others were the deep purples of a black eye, and they were all arranged in a fashionable way that was meant to look appealing. But the color was so strong that the freak’s head spun and she felt like she was drowning. Even her yellow dress shriveled up in this room.
“I suppose you’re my new maidservant.”
The freak jumped back, startled, and looked around desperately. “Miss?” she began nervously when she saw a pretty girl with blonde hair rise up from the couch, a lavender quilt tossed over her shoulders. The freak blushed and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
The girl frowned. “Did my father hire you as my maidservant?”
“Yes, Miss.” The freak wished her voice were stronger. “I’m sorry,” she added, curtseying again.
The girl ignored her. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Miss—” The freak didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went back and forth and she began to tremble. “Miss—Miss Sarah, isn’t it? I am sorry, I don’t have—”
The girl scowled at her. “Just as well. Get out. You can tell my father that I do not need a servant, and, furthermore, if this is just another of his idiotic attempts at controlling me, then it hasn’t worked.”
The freak opened her mouth and shut it quickly. “Miss, Miss, please!”
“What’s this?” The girl sounded amused.
The freak looked upset. “Please Miss! Don’t worry. I’m not your servant. Or, I am your servant, but that doesn’t mean—” the freak stopped talking, now thoroughly confused. She looked at Sarah hopefully. Sarah stood up, brushing herself off.
“So you are an idiot, are you not?”
“If it pleases you, my lady.”
“Very well then, come with me.” She walked briskly to the door and opened it, making a mock bow to the freak. The freak blushed and curtseyed, hesitating at the doorway. Sarah glared at her. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
Sarah only snorted.
The walls echoed with their footsteps as they walked. Sometimes, she heard voices from far off rooms. The freak twisted her head around when she thought Sarah wasn’t watching, trying to catch the ghosts of conversation and laughter she heard. But whenever the freak thought they were getting closer, the fainter the voices became until they just disappeared.
Finally Sarah shoved open a door.
Inside was the gentleman the freak had met in the car, sitting at a desk with a large stack of papers beside him. If he knew they were in the room, he didn’t show it; he didn’t look up and occasionally he scribbled something in a deep red journal beside him. The freak blushed and curtseyed anyway.
Sarah stood and watched him.
“Let me guess,” he said finally, not looking up. “You are dissatisfied with my purchase and would like to return it immediately. Before I will even consider returning it, give me a reason. Why is it insufficient for your needs?”
Sarah blinked. “Insufficient! What are you talking about?” He looked up hopefully. This encouraged Sarah and she gave an important cough. “I am having problems with my new maidservant.” He looked down and sighed.
“I am very busy now, daughter. Why are you here?”
“You’re the one who keeps giving me these maidservants. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
His short answer discouraged her. “Well, I don’t want one. Especially this one.”
“What has this one done to you?”
She snorted and drew herself higher. “She is an idiot—she has freely admitted it herself. She cannot talk, she cannot think, and besides that, she has a ghastly air about her.”
“Ghastly air?” The man looked confused. “You would send her away just because she looks ugly?”
Sarah scowled. “That’s not the only reason. You see—”
And the freak’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Sarah frantically, but Sarah seemed unfazed. She would not help her. The freak choked and turned to Sarah’s father, watching his reactions as he listened.
Finally, he interrupted Sarah. “Are you sure you want to get rid of her?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
He sighed. “Then do as I say. In this desk on the right hand side in the third drawer to the bottom there is something you will need. Open this drawer.” He didn’t look up and Sarah paused strangely before going to the desk.
“There’s a couple of pens here and—” She stopped, her eyes wide.
“A gun, loaded with exactly one bullet. Be exceedingly careful when handling it—do not touch the trigger. Take it out.” Sarah looked surprised and a little fearful, but she took it out carefully nonetheless.
“Why is this here?”
Her father ignored her question. “Take the gun and point it at the freak.”
“What!”
He looked annoyed. “The freak. Your maidservant, as you call her. Point it at the freak’s chest, straight at her heart, and shoot. Do not point it at the freak’s head as that method is too messy. It may kill instantly, but I don’t want the rugs to be stained with too much blood. The servants will complain; besides the rugs were expensive.”
Sarah looked horrified, but the freak didn’t care anymore. She stepped forward and looked at the man pleadingly. “You will not send me away then?”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah will shoot you instead. Step away from the carpet.”
The freak fingered the yellow fabric of her dress and nodded, her hands shaking. But at least she wasn’t being sent away. She thanked the man and stepped off the carpet.
Sarah was staring at the gun in her hands. She didn’t move for a minute and the only noise was the shuffle of her father sorting papers. She finally looked up, her face twisted strangely. “The bullets are blanks.”
“Do you think so?”
Sarah seemed wholly convinced now. “Yes. It doesn’t make sense for you to just hand me a gun that is fully loaded. If I wanted to, I could shoot you instead.”
“True.” He didn’t sound remotely concerned about this and kept sorting papers. “I suppose you could if you wanted. But it’s not fully loaded. There’s only one bullet there at the moment—I took the other five out. If you killed me, you would not be able to kill the freak.”
“And what if I didn’t want to kill the freak?”
“Then I would think you a fool.” He continued sorting papers. Sarah bit her lip and stepped up, putting the gun to her father’s head. He paused and turned to her, the gun still at his temple. Then he laughed. “Sadie, you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”
“The bullets are blanks.”
“If you say so.”
He watched her, interested as her face contorted into different emotions. His face was calm and even amused. Finally Sarah smiled and then, pointing the gun away from her father’s head and to a couch instead, she fired.
The sound was loud; the freak could hear her ears ringing and not much else. The couch had a new deep hole in it. Sarah’s father looked at it with a frown. “Pity, I liked that couch.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. With a cry, she dropped the gun and ran out. The freak looked at Sarah’s father pleadingly. He lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Follow her.” The freak nodded, curtseyed, and rushed after Sarah, her pretty yellow dress swishing at her heels.
Sarah’s father watched her leave before turning back to his work.






EDIT:

You guys are amazing! Here are probable changes I am going to make within the next edit:
--> Chapter 1 is mostly going to be removed. The important things will be combined with Chapter 2.
--> Mirror scene will be removed and many visual indicators will be taken out. A different description of her, using more tactile senses and smells, will be used instead. (And this is mostly because it seems that very few people are familiar with some of the visual symptoms malnutrition, so it would be ridiculous to use a description which confuses rather than describes.)
--> Interaction between headmistress and the freak will be removed.
--> Instead of the emphasis on waiting for a car, a greater emphasis will have her going to the gate, which will help foreshadow the end of the story and give it a more circular storyline.
--> Car scene will be revised... not sure how at the moment, but it will. Advice welcome, if you're willing to give.
If you want to comment or disagree with these possible edits, feel free to do so! Nothing has been written yet.