Lost Widow

Chapter 17

Nadia gasped for air as she came out of the memory.

Wanda stared at her with pity.

"You were only a child," she said.

"A child who needed to learn how to accept pain. I would rather have learned from a young age than be blindsided when I was older," Nadia replied.

Wanda accepted this, "are you okay to continue?"

"No point in prolonging the inevitable, " Nadia stated.

She closed her eyes and waited for the pictures to flood her mind.

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Memory 2 (Angry mother)

"Hit it again," Madame B instructed.

Nadia nodded nervously and made her fist into a ball.

She striked the punching bag hard and fast.

"How does your hand feel, child?"

"It hurts," Nadia winced.

"Show me."

Nadia held her hand in pain and walked up to Madame B.

"Give me your hand," she commanded.

The child reluctantly obeyed and seconds later Madame B rubbed it.

"The poor thing," she soothed.

Just as it seemed Nadia was feeling better Madame B's grip grew stronger. She squeezed the young girl's hand hard and waited for her to cry out in pain. But the sound never came. Instead, there were silent tears running down her face.

Madame B sighed in disappointment, "get out."

"What? Why?" The child questioned, confused.

"We do not cry in this room. That is a disgraceful act, and it will not be tolerated," Madame B replied strictly.

Nadia wiped her face with her shirt and stood up straight. She forced herself to look her elder in the eyes and steady her shaking voice.

"Why?"

Madame B saw this and became intrigued.

"Because crying is a form of weakness. You don't want to be weak, do you?"

"No, Madame B," Nadia replied strongly.

"Okay then repeat after me," she said.

"Pain only makes us stronger. Say it."

"Pain only makes us stronger," Nadia repeated.

The next couple of days the six-year-old went through different various training, ones that helped beginners with balance, reflexes, strength, and acrobatics. By night the child was exhausted and begging to go back to the apartment.

"Your mother is not back from her mission," Madame B stated.

"So, get up from that floor and continue," she strictly added.

"Actually, I completed my mission early."

Natasha appeared at the door, her arms crossed, and her face displeased.

"Ah Natasha, my best student. How was it?"

"Tedious," Natasha answered.

Her voice was nonchalant and hid any sign of discomfort that her daughter was sitting in a room that made her into a killer. The Russian accent was heavy, and you'd think it left her body when she went to America, but it came back to her every time she walked back inside that building.