❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 ❞
Tucked away in the depths of Russia,
Natalia Romanova buries her unborn daughter. (Underneath the first snowfall of winter,
Natalia Romanova births another.)
A regime burns,
As mother and da...
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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨)
Hollow eyes blink up at her.
Blood coats her vision, spilling in from every side until all she can see is a haze of red.
She blinks slowly, the coppery tang clinging fiercly to the back of her throat.
Cold clung to her skin, sinking deep into the marow of her bones. It lived there, amongst the worst of her.
Below her, the lips begin to turn blue. She wonders if the cold has sunk into his marrow now too, if she pressed her fingers to his face, would it be as icy as hers?
The eyes don't look away.
She averts her own, settling her gaze instead upon a single line of blood slowly dripping from the pads of her fingers.
He had gripped one of her hands weakly before finally falling still, a silent plea. Hands encrusted with his own blood, a futile last attempt to stop it from gushing from his body.
A shrill screech breaks the silence that had settled upon the room. She turns her head towards the opening door, old and rusted.
Two men step in, eyeing her tiny frame warily with fingers constantly twitching over the handles of their guns with every breath she takes.
Handlers.
They advance upon her, large hands swallowing her thin arms in a brusing grip.
Czarina allows them, lets her body fall limp like a puppet with it's strings cut as they yank her along, feet barely brushing the floor.
It was the closest thing she had ever felt to a loving embrace.
She lolls her head backwards, straining to catch a glimpse one last time of the hollow eyes. Blood pools beneath his head, body lay at a strange angle.
(He hadn't been frightened of her, not at first.
She had been herded in, looking more like the lamb brought to slaughter, than the executioner under the wool.
The Headmistress had stopped her at the door, eyes glinting as they bore down at her, one hand clasping her shoulder firmly.
"Make him bleed." she had said, with a smile full of teeth.
The man had laughed, only partially hysterical. Paced infront of a camera situated in the corner, tilting his head upwards at it as if he were praying to a god.
"Think a child is gonna scare me?" he had screamed, as if anyone would respond. "Think I'm frightened of your little science experiment?"
