REDEMPTION- MARVEL

• PROLOGUE •

1931

They'd been practicing for hours. Hours of holding their weight on their toes, hours of pirouettes and pliés, hours of standing perfectly still in that bright white room.

The man sitting in the chair tapped his cane on the floor, keeping with the beat of the piano playing in the darkest corner of the room. They all knew that the person on the piano wasn't there by choice, just like they weren't there by choice. Anytime they would be facing the dark corner, they would try to see who it was, though they all thought it was a man, considering the way he fidgeted, and how his fingers touched the keys.

Cassandra's arms burned, and her feet ached. All she wanted was to lie down, but even that hurt. The handcuff used to keep them from escaping, even though none of them knew where home was anymore, dug into her wrist leaving blood and bruises. Nobody ever got a moment alone here, and by any miracle that somebody was alone, it was the last time you would ever see them again.

When you were alone, you were either being let out into the real world, never to come in contact with any of them ever again, or you had done something that the man in the chair, or the woman in the corner didn't like, and you weren't allowed to live anymore. You weren't allowed to live because they didn't want you to be. Nothing that you did here was ever your choice. If you tried to protest, you would be punished. You could be beaten, maybe whipped, or killed. But you didn't get a choice in that either. 

A bell echoed through the bright white room, drowning out the piano man's sad music. All of them froze where they were, all with their arms reaching towards the ceiling, left leg straightened out behind their right. 

All of them except for the girl in front of Cassandra, who had been having trouble keeping up. She was new, maybe nine years old. She had golden blonde hair, and the palest skin Cassandra had ever seen, the poor girl was almost transparent. She had dark brown, almost black, eyes that made quite the contrast against her skin. The girl was frozen in an arabesque, wobbling on the pointe shoes that she was far to young to be wearing.

The man in the chair stood up, limping onto the floor, and going to the little girl. A look graced every one of their faces, even the oldest, a look that years of brainwashing and torture couldn't erase. Though the older ones were better at washing it away. Cassandra wanted to throw herself in front of the man, beg him to let this little girl live, maybe even let her go. She was only a child, she didn't know, but she couldn't.

Cassandra couldn't help her. If she did, the man with in the chair would have them fight each other. And only one of the was allowed to come out of it. She'd been here this long, she wasn't leaving now.

He swept her leg out from under her with his cane. She stuck her hands out in front of her to keep her from breaking her nose. Not that it mattered, because her fate was going to be much worse than a broken nose.

The room echoed with the loud thud of the girl hitting the floor and the scream that sounded all too familiar to all of them. The girl got off her stomach, her eyes welling with tears and cheeks bright red. There was a bruise forming on her forehead, and blood dripping out of her nose.

All the others had their heads faced away from the girl, towards the piano man, who just like them, had seen enough to know what happens next. They couldn't see what was happening to the girl, until she ran towards them to hide next to the piano man. But the man with the cane had no problem hurting the piano man to get to her.

Cassandra wished with all her heart that she could turn away, that she could close her eyes, but she couldn't. She didn't want to become like that girl, she'd made it this far. Though the screams and cries of both the girl and the piano man tore a part of her heart away each time they echoed though the dimly lit room.

The piano man had it easier. He moved away quickly after deciding his life was not worth a girl who was going to die anyways. But the girl. Death by being beaten by a cane wasn't the way this girl would've imagined she was going to have died. But she didn't imagine she would've ended up here anyways.

As the blood stained the light floor underneath the piano and all of them moved their gaze towards the mirrors up on the wall, Cassandra couldn't help but wonder where she'd come from.

Cassandra had come from America, this girl may have come from a town over, or maybe another country, like France. But she looked just like the other girls that she knew were from towns over. Russian, most of them. A few seemed to be from Germany, but she was the only one from America. She could tell.

The screaming stopped. Cassandra couldn't help but look ahead of her where the piano was. The dark corner was hard to see, but she could just barely make out the curled up body of the girl. She'd fallen over the bench she was standing behind, her head under the bench, and her feet sticking out. Blood covered the piano man's clothes, the stained keys of the piano, and the floor.

The man with the cane sat back in his chair, and began tapping the beat. The piano man continued his sad song, and they began their routine once more, ignoring the mess that the man's cane left behind him. Ignoring the swipe of blood where the girl hit her head.

writing the prologues for these books are always my favorite part because i get to be so creative.

this was a dark one though, sorry about that.

the next chapter is either gonna come in four days or four weeks, so prepare for that.

i'm also going to stop with the gifs at the beginning, because it bother me and shitpad never lets them work.

i love you more than deke loves lemons, thank you for reading!!