I just finished reading The Power of Six last week, even though I've been meaning to read it for over a year x In the end I decided to write this - please read and review to tell me what you think x
Disclaimer: I don't anything - it all belongs to 'Pittacus Lore'
It was just like another day when the burning started. He'd been in the middle of the spelling bee - the worst, most public place to be - when the pain had started, when the fire had started to wrap around his leg.
It was mild at first, barely noticeable, but it grew stronger and stronger, until it went from uncomfortable to agonising in less than fifteen minutes. He had long since stopped paying attention to the spelling bee, instead just concentrating on not passing out.
He bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming until he tasted blood, copper and salt. Number Four tried hard to keep the pain from showing on his face, but even so he knew he was wearing a lop-sided grimace of agony.
The pain's intensity increased to a crescendo, stronger than anything he'd felt in years - not since One had died. And that was why this was happening - another of them was being killed. Right now, one of the very last few of his people was being slaughtered, and all of them would have a scar to show for it.
He knew that by the end of the day he would have a second scar encircling his ankle, the reminder of the death of another of his people tattooed onto his flesh. The Elders had been cruel to mark their failures in this way.
Before he'd fully realised the burning increased further and when Four looked down at his leg he was unsurprised to see the trouser leg smoking, the smell of singed fabric wafting into the air. Bursts of light shone through the tears, a beacon of the last Lorien lost.
After that Four lost his own battle with the pain and blacked out, remembering nothing more than the comfort of the cold wooden floor against his leg.
When he woke up it was to machines beeping and doors opening and closing and to the slight tremor of pain in his leg, but far less than as it had been formed.
He opened his eyes.
He was in a hospital bed. He'd never been in one before - never been in a hospital even - but he recognised it from some of the TV shows he watched - the ones that Henri let him see. It was very white and very clean, completely sterile. Four could smell the disinfectant in the air, and his nose twitched slightly.
Just then, a nurse came bustling in, with a matronly air and stern look at him as he reached up to start unplugging things.
"Don't touch that!" She told him.
"Where am I?" He asked.
"You're in the hospital dearie."
"What happened?" He already knew the answer, but he needed to know what they knew. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
"You had some very bad scarring around your ankles - some of which looked very recent. We wouldn't normally keep you in for that, or give you a bed, but you hit your head very hard on the floor when you collapsed."
"Where's Henri?"
An odd look came over the nurse's face, something hard and pitying before she turned away to start fiddling with the machines. Their annoying beeping quickly ceased. "Don't worry dear. He's not coming in here?"
"He's not?" Four's choice trembled, unsure as to why they wouldn't let him in.
"He'll never hurt you again sweetheart."
"Hurt me?"
The nurse gave him a warm smile. "Don't worry. You'll be safe."
"Hurt me?"
The nurse seemed puzzled by his confusion. "Well those burns on your leg were very recent, and it wasn't like they happened in school. You haven't been out or to any of your friends houses, so we know that it must have been your father who did this." With that she started muttering derisively under her breath, things the Four caught with his sharp ears, but hadn't particularly wanted to.
Four shook his head frantically. "No it wasn't!"
She patted his hand. "It's alright dear. You don't have to lie about it anymore. Now why don't we see if I can't find your doctor?" She bustled back out again.
"But..."
He had barely been alone for ten minutes before Henri himself walked into the room and settled on the end of the bed, leaning over to give him a hug. Four relaxed slightly, knowing that he was safe.
"What's happening?" He asked, his voice slightly muffled by Henri's chest.
"We're going home as soon as possible, because despite their ridiculous theories they don't have any evidence. Then we're packing up and moving on."
Four sighed. "Where to?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe Texas. Or Miami? Where do you want?"
"I don't mind. Somewhere nice," Four told his 'father'.
Henri ruffled his hair. "Will do." he got up, the hospital bed creaking as he did so. "I need to get started on the paperwork, both to get you out of here and the move. I'll be back later, okay kid?"
Four nodded, watching the door close. The nurse walked back in, looking slightly sour.
"Are you alright?" She didn't call him dearie this time.
"I'm fine thank you ma'am." Henri had always raised him to be polite.
She gave him another look but Four simply settled down in the bed, snuggling down in the covers and closing his eyes. He couldn't wait to get out of here if they were all going to look at him like that. Henri would never hurt him.
It was times like this that he wished he could tell them all what he really was, what the scars really were.
But in the meantime he'd take a map.