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𝐘/𝐍 struggles to raise herself from the warmth of her blankets and the pillows that surrounded her, feeling her hand sink into the pleasant shrouds of silk the moment she threw herself on the bed. She starts to nervously nibble her lips in defeat as she realizes the day is coming to an end.
She blinked her eyes multiple times, staring at the ceiling with an anxious look on her face while the lightbulb that gave light to her entire chamber started to flicker and fade slowly. And, miserably as she thought of it, here comes another night of sheer recalling.
"Junko, why is your light still on?" Director Vavilov, her current caretaker and the head of the secret institute that took her in, entered her room suddenly. Y/n didn't bother herself to sit up for respect and simply just glanced at the old Romanov man.
Director Viktor Vavilov was a Russian middle-aged man, quite clean-looking yet has this aura that gives off a pleasant feeling. For as long as y/n can remember, after losing her family, the old man has always been the one to take the role of her guardian. More of the role as her father figure.
Yet, despite this fact, y/n chucked him a look of annoyance and groaned sassily like a bumped-up little child. "Junko, you know your curfew. Your whole team is already dead beat from training, yet here you are. It's already been two hours since supper, get yourself some sleep."
After a few seconds of silence, she rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. "Can't I sleep with the lights on?" Y/n asks, looking at the gentlemen with a face asking for permission. Which, unnaturally, made the old man look at her with a granite face.
Regardless, even as she looked at him with a pleading and almost desperate face, the bulbs of her room started to fade one by one. "I hate you." She groaned, covering her eyes with her arms.
"Do not waste electricity, you hear me? Farewell." Vavilov clicks his tongue before slamming the door shut, whispering to y/n a good night which she clearly won't have before she was left alone to herself with the burden of having horrid memories.
"If only you knew," Y/n mutters under her breath, sounding rather bitter and depressed. She bit her lips out of habit and sucked it up as always. She closed her eyes after curling herself into a ball and cocooning herself tightly with the soft blankets.
And after not even a minute, y/n started to tremble in fear as her consciousness gets consumed by the darkness of her room, not even clearly seeing the moon that shined shallowly through the peaks of her window curtains as she dozed off in a sweat.
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