The rise of the White Widow

Day one in the dreaded red room

(The day before doesn't count)
Day one in the dreaded red room.

On my second day, I find myself summoned to Dreykov's office, an intimidating and sizable space with nothing to make it feel inviting. The room is mostly empty aside from a few essentials. I'm seated in a stiff, uncomfortable chair placed deliberately in front of the imposing desk that dominates the office. I can't help but fix my eyes on Dreykov, glaring at him with such intensity that even the guard seems uneasy due to my unwavering gaze.

Dreykov smirks and addresses me, "Nice to see you, Aleksandra"

Knowing I have no choice but to play along, I force a smile, though it's painfully obvious how insincere it is.

His unnerving grin doesn't falter as he leans back in his chair and says, "Now this weekend is going to be quite... entertaining."

Doing my best to maintain a sarcastic tone rather than sounding afraid or angry, I respond dryly, "I can hardly wait"

Dreycov rises slowly from his chair and casually strolls over to the large window that offers a stunning view of the bustling city below. He pauses for a moment, soaking in the sight before turning to face me with a thoughtful expression.

"You know," he says, his tone soft but deliberate, "You're one of my best agents, a true widow. Trained since you were an infant to be an exceptional soldier, you possess the viciousness and skill required for this line of work. But I must say, your words can be so incredibly childish at times."

I can't help but scoff at his remark, feeling a mix of pride and frustration.

"If I were as good as you say," I shoot back, "Then I wouldn't be here with you right now. I'd be out there on the frontlines, fighting the good fight. Instead, I'm stuck here, fighting for this... whatever you want to call it."

(By the good fight means she would have escaped the Red room and be fighting for good and not bad, if that makes sense)

Dreycov's expression falters, he seems genuinely surprised by my biting words.

His eyes narrow slightly as he asks, "What do you mean by that? We're on the same side here. This is the good fight."

The bitterness in my voice grows stronger as I scoff again, shaking my head in disbelief at his naivety.

"What? Are we really supposed to believe that killing innocent people is somehow the good fight'? Is that the good fight?"

It appears that my actions have successfully thrown Dreykov off balance. He waves his hand, signaling for the guard to escort me back to my small, dingy cell. I can't help but taunt him in this moment of vulnerability.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?" I say, flashing a smug smirk in his direction.

Unexpectedly, the guard halts in his tracks. Dreykov marches towards me, anger burning in his eyes. Before I can react, his fist makes contact with my nose. The pain is sharp and intense, but I just widen my smirk as blood begins to flow down my face.

This infuriates Dreykov even more, and he aims another powerful punch at my stomach. The impact is like a sledgehammer, it takes all my strength not to let the pain show on my face as I double over.

"Take her to the torture room," Dreykov coldly orders the guard, "You have free rein, do whatever you want with her."

The burly guard forcefully drags me down the dimly lit hallway, his iron grip tightening around my arm. After what feels like an agonizing eternity, he finally reaches the dreaded torture chamber and haphazardly throws me onto a cold, hard bed. The surface of the bed is covered in a sheet of thick, cracked leather, worn from countless encounters with tormented souls before me.

My eyes dart around the room as I take note of my surroundings. The walls are a deep black, perhaps an attempt to hide the memories of suffering that have occurred within them. The only light in the room comes from a single hanging lamp that dangles precariously from the ceiling like a dying firefly.

As I struggle to breathe through my panic, I notice that the air is stagnant and reeks of blood and sweat, with a faint metallic taste lingering on my tongue.

"How utterly comforting," I think to myself sarcastically.

⚠️Torture, r@pe⚠️

The guard proceeds to strap me firmly to the bed, further securing me in its unyielding grasp. As he begins to remove my clothing piece by piece, I tense up, already knowing what horrific experience awaits me. But deep down inside, I somehow find solace in the fact that it isn't unfamiliar to me, it's something I've begrudgingly come to expect from the men who've played cruel roles throughout my life's story.

Despite knowing what's coming next, I tighten my jaw and brace myself for whatever pain or humiliation he can throw at me. Through it all, I remind myself that no matter how much they hurt or degrade me in this dark place, they can't break my spirit completely. It's not over until I say it is, even if moments like these make it feel almost unbearable at times.

After rapeing me the guard starts torturing me in every way he can imagine, I just lay there, showing no emotion or pain. I can tell hes getting angry that I'm not crying or screaming, so he starts shouting and hitting me with his fists,then he takes a knife and starts stabbing me in the stomach, then he throws me in the corner and starts hitting me with his fists again. I crawl into a ball and cover myself with my arms to protect myself from his anger. I can feel myself getting weaker and weaker and my body is starting to shut down. I feel my heart beating so fast, and my stomach and chest are pounding so hard.
⚠️End of r@pe warning⚠️

Once the guard has finished dealing with me, I am escorted to the medical bay. It's their duty to ensure my survival, so they address only the most critical injuries, leaving the minor ones untreated. I feel fragile, barely able to move, I can only manage to open my eyes and stare at my captors. They have me bound in tight restraints and force me to stand upright.

"Take her back to her cell, she'll be fine," one of the nurses declares.

A guard grasps my wrist firmly and drags me towards the door. The sudden movement sends a wave of fresh pain coursing through my body. Unable to bear it any longer, I crumple to the cold, hard floor as if shutting down yet again. I remain motionless on the ground.

Growing impatient, the guard nudges me with his boot in an attempt to make me stand up. But I simply can't muster the strength to move. Infuriated by my inaction, he roughly grabs a handful of my hair and starts dragging me down the desolate hallway towards my cell.