"Of a disposition at once unsociable and talkative, desiring to see no one, yet wishing to converse with someone, he got out of the difficulty by talking to himself." (V. Hugo)

NOUR'S POV

It's been ten days since I last set a foot out of the flat. If my dad could see me now, he would probably lecture me about how fast time goes by and how we should all wake up early and enjoy the gift of life to the fullest. I think I could get used to this new way of life, though. The good side of spending my days and nights in total isolation, is that I no longer have to pretend to be anything more than I am. I no longer have to act as a happy brat who has been gifted in every way possible, when in reality, I don't have any close friends and what's left of my family hates me. 

I no longer have to act as a heartless bastard who doesn't miss his mum. 

She knew, of course. My mother always knew everything, or so I thought. She was the one who told me about my condition, only I didn't fully understand what it implied at that time. I guess I was too young. She said she would explain in more details later, but when later came, she was gone. 

Maybe I was too young, but I was perceptive enough to sense that my mum was very worried about me. So, when she said "Never say yes too quickly to a stranger. You have to be careful not to share your bed with the wrong person." I nodded obediently.

When she added "You are special and you have to hide it from people who are up to no good." I was foolish enough to believe that I was truly special, like those  superheroes in the movies my brother wouldn't stop watching. 

Years later, I came to the realisation that there were two kinds of special. 

1) Special as unique. 

2) Special as freaky. 

I was also finally able to translate in my own words what my mum had been trying to tell me that day: "Don't fuck around too much, or you're fucked". 

See, I am not suppose to get pregnant. Only preys can get pregnant, and my animal is a predator. But not only am I a shifter, I am a different kind of shifter and unfortunately I can get pregnant. I am a - 

Phone. Yes, no, I'm not a phone, I mean my phone is ringing! It hasn't ring for the last ten days. I didn't even receive one fucking message. Who could be calling me? 

My phone isn't on the sofa. Crap, I have to get up. When did I become such a lazy ass?

My phone isn't on my bed. Where is it?

The suspense is killing me. Who is calling? 

There it is! I left it in the toilets. Gross. 

Who is calling me? Crap, how can I forget my own password? 

It's... 

"Grandma! It's soooo good to hear your voice!"

"Don't try to bullshit me, baby-boy. Where are you? Your dad told me you moved out? Why wasn't I the first one to know? Do you finally have a boyfriend? Who is the lucky fool? Do I know him?"

"Wow, granny, that's way too many questions! I'm in one of dad's flats. It comes in quite handy to have a rich dad."

" Baby-boy! Are you implicitely saying that your new boyfriend is a suggar daddy?"

"Grandma!"

"Okay, okay, baby-boy. I'll tone it down. Just promise me that you're doing okay."

"I am. Don't worry."

"You're lying through your teeth, young man." Thanks God my grandmother lives so far away and is too old to come and check on me.

"And don't think I'm too old to pay you a visit!" Crap. Is she reading my thoughts, now?

"Sorry I lied, Granny. I'm fine, I - I just had an argument with my boyfriend, that's all."

"Ah! I knew it!" she exclaims with a triumphant tone. "You can't hide anything from an old monkey like me."

"Okay, I have to go now granny."

"Fair enough, baby boy, but I'm calling you again soon! And don't you dare ignoring my phone calls, or I'm asking Amine to pay you a visit."

"Bye, granny. Love you."

"Love you too, baby-boy. Please say hi to your suggar daddy for me."

I hang up, feeling slightly relieved. I love my grandmother to the moon and back, but she would make a pretty good detective. Well, better than I, I mentally add, thinking back about the time I felt asleep on Rémy's bed, after trying to collect some blackmail material about him. 

Rémy. I was so surprised that he let me sleep in his arms, after I punched that lion. I guess being sick has its perks. He must have been really worried about me, even though he hates me. I have felt safe twice lately, and both times it was thanks to Rémy. He would make a good boyfriend. Actually, if I remember correctly, he already has one. A young guy with a small frame and blond hair. I think his name is Yoann. He looks nothing like me. I'm not Rémy's type but it doesn't matter, because he isn't my type, either. Plus, they seem to be madly in love.

Why does my stomach keep hurting so much? It's been like that since that night when I woke up in Rémy's bed, after punching the lion boy. I try not too think too much about it, because when I do, I start panicking and I hate the feeling of being breathless and on the verge of breaking down. I guess it was the perfect timing to isolate myself from the others. It was hard enough to hide my pain from Rémy, who kept asking me questions the two days before I left.

Rémy might be a bit cold and secretive at first sight, but he cares deeply and he has a very protective nature. He reminds me a bit of my brother, in that respect. I don't know how I managed to make two guys with such a generous nature hate me. I'm doing miracles in my own way. At least, my grandmother still loves me. I can allow myself to give her some affection, because I never see her, so she is safe. It's safe to love her.

I turn on the TV to distract myself from my heartburns. It was a terrible idea, because the presentator's next words make my stomach turn. 

"The poachers have struck again! At least fifty animals have been killed last night. Their corpses were found in the forest, as the poachers apparently didn't have time to collect all of their prizes. They were mostly rabbits, but also birds, fox and young boars. It is also believed that they killed a wolf, as some patch of  bloody grey fur was found out by a group of environmentalists. We would like to remind those who are listening that - "

I suddenly can't breath. It would have been bad enough if these poor creatures were real animals. What makes it worst, is that I am almost 100 percent sure that they are not animals. They're shifters. At least fifty shifters have been killed.

And these poachers are not poachers. They're Hunters. They're back, and they want to exterminate us. They won't stop their deadly hunt until we're all dead. 

A/N:

We're still in January, so I guess it's not too late to send you all my best wishes for 2019! 

Also, don't worry, Amine and Rémy will be back in Nour's life soon!

Thank you for reading "The Freak", and thank you for the support!  

Until next Sunday,

xxxxx

#hasnoshame