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the red roomrussia

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the red room
russia


BEFORE
galina


I didn't remember when I arrived back to the Red Room, or when I must have been in the medical room, I only woke up from my sedation hours after Budapest. The arrow wound on my thigh was wrapped in a white bandage.

A doctor checked on me before I was allowed to go back to my small living quarters. One of the very small rooms within a long hallway of other very small rooms. But my bed was comfortable when I laid back down and I was thankful for it.

I don't remember falling asleep.



🕷


1995


The ballerina slippers were heavy in my hand as I walked tiredly back to my bedroom. A few of the other girls had the same expressions on their faces. Another girl, Johanna, was killed today. She dropped dead after being on her feet for hours.

I wished it was me that did so.

The reason behind her death was unknown and it will remain that way. But I knew it had to be simply because her body gave out. She couldn't handle it any longer. Not that her life mattered her. They bring more and more of us all the time.

The bedroom door was heavier then usual but it was a weight I didn't mind bearing. My tired eyes took notice of only my bed and not that there was another person in the room.

Sitting on the other bed, one that had been empty for so long, was a girl I hardly recognized.

My eyes squinted. She was skinny, but tall. A recognizable face of a girl I once knew. But her fiery red hair wasn't there. Instead, a cleanly shaven head reflected the dim light that hung on the ceiling.

"Natalia?" I asked, dropping my ballerina shoes and walking slowly to her.

Her eyes were red. She must've been crying for hours. They were swollen and her lips were almost as red as her hair.

"What happened? Where did you go, I thought you died?" I asked, sitting on her bed.

She cried then, shaking arms holding on to a small piece of paper. Finally she answered, "Ohio."

I didn't know what that meant. I didn't know anything about everything. But I knew she was sad, so I sat next to her and wrapped my small arm around her shaking shoulders.

"It's okay. You're home now."

She cried harder.



🕷


BEFORE


Melina once again used my brain to make some sort of chemical reaction. I wasn't quite sure what she was doing. But I went in every day and let her take MRI's for hours. Needles full of my blood, even the marrow of my bones was for her use. Anything she needed and I had to offer, she took.

A few days later, Widow's were ordered for a mandatory checkup. A few of them disappeared. But no body asked questions.

My checkup consisted of a liquified vitamin that would help me be healthier and more focused. But it made my head cloudy and then not at all. Widow's complained about headaches for days. I didn't.

A few days after that, I was selected to go onto a mission. We had to retrieve a package from a scientist transporting it to Africa. It was only a few other girls and myself.

But I was distracted the entire time. I couldn't think of anything else but Natalia. Seeing her in Budapest, seeing her free like that, I envied her. I kept waiting for her to appear. Come on little mouse, it is time to go to America, she would say. She would take my hand and lead me away from her.

Natalia never did appear though.

When we boarded the ship that was in route to Africa, we did not expect the hurricane that had formed over the Atlantic Ocean and hit us during the middle of the mission.

The mission itself had been horseshit. I knew it would fail and would most likely cost me my life when I saw the hurricane in the horizon.

The jet that we had taken was my saving grace. When I stood on the starboard, men from the crew dead and a few Widow's as well, I knew I had to get out of there.

I did the only thing I could think of. I cut the tracker out of my thigh, got onto the jet, and took off. As I flew away into the storm, I tried not to look back at the wave that capsized the ship and killed the rest of my team and whatever crewman were left.

I didn't stop moving after that. Not till I came to America.

the blackest of widows || n. romanoff ASSEMBLE ✔️Where stories live. Discover now