TW: Violent imagery!
Chapter Two
The Ballet Teacher
NOV 1991
The water cut into Sophia as they cleansed her. It seemed to pummel her small frame, the sharp cold sliced through her bones. Two thick intimidating women, with rough brushes, scraped the dirt from her skin. Sophia had been held under the heavy shower for hours, the two matrons tugging and pulling her, tearing the stench that Moscow had gifted her from her body. They had cut her hair and she had watched the strands of her dark hair swirl towards the grate in the centre of the room. Every now and then, there would be a ribbon of blood that would follow the current. All the women had said to her was dirty. She was a rag with a dark stain and they were rubbing and kneading her in order to get her clean.
Sophia had given up on trying to escape the painful grasp of the women. Her body was shaking from fever and as the two women had started to clean her, it became apparent that whilst she had been rummaging through the garbage four days ago, a shattered bottle had scratched her lower back. She had been too frozen and full of adrenaline to notice it. Now, as painfully cold water was being lashed through her, the wound reared its ugly head.
The water shut off, Sophia was limp. She had forgotten how to stand, her muscles were dough, her skin burned and her fever raged through her. They roughly dried her, with a towel that seemed to be as rough as the sponges. One of the women brought out a first aid kit.
"Lie down on your stomach," one of them ordered, opening the dull green box. Sophia obeyed, meekly slumping to the ground. The rough touch of the matron made Sophia wince. Broiling pain surged through her, her body wriggling from the searing pain of vodka seeping into her open wound. She screamed with all her might, the alcohol seeping into her. The second matron slapped the back of her head for crying out, Sophia's cheek collided with the floor.
"Shut up, girl," the woman snarled. Sophia took a sharp breath as the women handled her body, biting down on her bottom lip in an attempt to stop screaming out.
The women who had poured vodka on Sophia's cut placed the bottle on the wet floor of the shower room. She now held a surgical needle. A thick leather strap was roughly shoved into Sophia's mouth.
"Bite."
Sophia did as she was told and sank her teeth into the material. Her breath was quick. Her mind racing.
"You need to stay still, rat," the woman with the needle sneered at her, before sitting on her legs. The matron who had pushed her to the ground was pushing her shoulders down to stop her from jolting free. White-hot agony rushed through Sophia's body for a second and she felt the strap tear from the force of her bite before she passed out from the pain.
#
When she came too, she was lying on the floor of a new room. She didn't move when she first opened her eyes. Maybe she would quickly jolt awake and be back in the train station and sweat off this horrible nightmare. She was greeted with a sharp pain from the top of her hip. Her fever seemed to have left her, yet her body was still raw from the harsh battering of her shower. She was still naked. She could feel her back stick against the cold floor of the new space she had been dumped in.
Slowly, she sat up from the floor. Her small hands gripping her side. She had a bandage wrapped tightly around her slim stomach. She groaned as she moved, her limbs were stiff. Every inch of her body was bruised.
The sudden sound of shuffling sent a shake of fear down Sophia's spine and she turned to face the noise. A red-headed girl, who was around the same age as her, was huddled in the corner. She two was red from the scratches of the matrons. She didn't have any bandages. She was staring at Sophie with wide timid eyes, her arms crossed, hugging her naked body tightly. Her small frame shook violently as she tried to hold back tears.
The room which the two girls had found themselves in was an old, seemingly abandoned ballet studio. The paint was peeling from the walls and the mirrors were stained and rusty. There were two windows that allowed sunlight through. Metal guards and bars were their curtains. Sophia's companion was huddled under one of them, she seemed to be trying to stay within the shadows of the room.
Sophia looked away from the scared girl and gently stood up. She stumbled at first, her head rushing from being upright. The girl in the corner squeaked as she watched. But Sophia managed to catch herself and showed the scared girl her hands.
"I won't hurt you," Sophia whispered, keeping her hands up to show her companion that she wasn't a threat.
This seemed to surprise the girl in the corner, whose only response was a sniff.
"My name is Sophia," the ten-year-old murmured, offering out her hand to hold. The scared girl looked at the hand for a moment, she seemed conflicted with herself. Then after a moment of silence between the two girls, the younger one slowly shuffled out from the corner and took Sophia's hand. She shook it weakly and looked at Sophia with the same wide-eyed expression.
"I'm Natasha, I'm 9" she stuttered, her grip on Sophia's hand tightening. Sophia gave a small smile at this and a brief blip of relief rushed through her.
"I'm 10," Sophia responded. The younger girl then let go of Sophia's hand and walked closer to her, crossing her slim arms over her chest.
"Why did they wrap you up?" she asked innocently, looking at the bandages and frowning.
"I hurt myself," Sophia spoke blankly and watched Natasha's expression contort into an even deeper frown.
"How-" the girl's question got cut off at the sound of metal clanging. The door behind them was flung open and the woman who had sown Sophia's wound up came marching into the room. In her hands were two piles of white cloth. Sophia gripped Natasha's hand, her chest tightening as she watched the scary women move through the room.
The matron was giant, as giant as any adult was to a child. She wore a drab dark grey dress that seemed to hang from her lifelessly. She had thin mousey brown hair which had been scraped back into a tight bun. Her face was withered and coarse. It looked as dreary as the fabric of her dress. She had hard blue eyes which seemed to puncture the two girls like needles.
"Welcome, my little spiders," she spoke, she had a thick north Russian accent which made it hard for the girls to make out her words. She was standing by a light switch which she promptly turned on. The fluorescent overhead lights flickered for a moment before sticking. Sophia winced at the harsh light.
"I am your Ballet Teacher, you will address me as ma'am only," the grey woman instructed. She then threw the thin cream coloured piles of clothes at the two children.
"Put these on," she ordered. Natasha crouched down, breaking away from Sophia's hand and picked up a tiny cream coloured leotard, the stockings fell from the top as she grabbed it.
"Now!" the Ballet Teacher barked. Her wrinkles deepening as she scowled at the two of them. Sophia reached down slowly and stepped into her leotard cautiously then pulled up the stockings over the top. Natasha mimicked her as she got dressed. The Ballet Teacher watched the children as they fumbled with themselves.
"The rules of my class are simple. If you run, you die. If you fail, you die."
A/N:
This chapter is on the graphic side, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to think of what life would have realistically been like in the Red Room Academy you know? I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
All the best,
- R. x
YOU ARE READING
The Red Soldier | Bucky Barnes
Adventure"Don't look at me like that, he would have done the same to me if he had the chance, I could see it in his eyes," Sophia explained, looking down at her redheaded friend. Natasha shook her head and seemed to hold her self back from saying something t...
