On the 16th of August 1922, three year old Katya Volkov disappeared off the face of the earth. Her father John Shelby and her family searched for years but never found her.
They are shocked when they suddenly appear in a room, being told that she i...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY WAS YOURSELF, KATYA HAD LEARNED QUICK. In the red room there was no room for weakness. Letting an emotion someone else didn't want show could result in your death.
When her group had arrived she had watched a wailing five year old girl thrown to the ground and shot in the head because she was resistant. She had been was a scared kid, she hadn't meant to be naughty. They didn't care.
In all his years of living Arthur didn't think he had even seen brutality against children this bad. He felt sick watching the image of a young girl flash on the screen. The terror painting her face. Blood pooling around a still body.
"I'm going to be sick." Polly muttered hand coming to cradle her mouth. Her face paling leaving her a sickly green.
Ballet class was where it became fully ingrained. Madame would walk through beady eyes looking for any mistakes or emotions showing. If you stumbled or messed up you were dragged from the room a resounding gunshot echoing seconds after. It didn't matter that you were doing it for hours until your feet were bleeding and you felt faint. You couldn't let your exhaustion show on your face or you could end up dead. It didn't matter that you were a kid.
Damian felt a chill spread through his bones. Grandfather. He could remember days as a child spent in the same situation. Learning fighting techniques, methods of torture, murder. Discomfort filled him thinking of the similarities between the two of them. Memories of harsh punishments for mistakes; broken bones and his mothers words of comfort making him nauseous.
Bracing herself against the wall she glanced round the corner. Gun out cradled to her chest, finger resting on the trigger. Dust blew around the room; papers fluttering, objects broken on the floor. Two red narrow beams lowered into the room. The front door being knocked off its hinges as widows clambered in. They had been found.
Creeping forward she kept her mind focused. From the corner of her eye she watched as Yelena tucked the vials in her bag swinging it quietly onto her shoulder. She couldn't see Natasha.
She held her breath pushing herself into the wall as a beam narrowly missed where she had stood. They needed to leave. Now.
Yelena darted across the hall gunshots narrowly missing her. They hit the wall hard debris flying. She collided into Natasha knocking her away from the danger. Spinning around the corner Katya took one of the widow's by surprise. Kicking her in the gut before elbowing her in the face the girl crumpling to the ground. Using it to her advantage she grabbed a blade taking aim and letting it soar impaling into the girls head. Blood spattered before she made it to the other side.
"Jesus Christ." Micheal muttered impressed, a grin building on his lips. He ignored the disapproving looks he got from Thomas and John. ""With aim like that you hardly need more than a knife."
Dawns face scrunched up in distaste turning away from the man. Nausea building inside her.
Yelena twisted the fuse. The lights blew in the apartment. Katya hurriedly bringing her arms up to protect her face. Pieces of glass flew from the lights sparks of electricity burning anyone it touched. A pained scream rang in the apartment.
