𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

- ⧗ ZARIAH PETROVA ⧗ -

   ZARIAH'S VEINS FELT LAID WITH ICE. A cold shiver ran down her spine as her eyes lay frozen on the screen ahead. Those four words ran like a loop in her mind, impossibly set out in front of her.

   BIOLOGICAL MOTHER: NATALIA ROMANOVA.

   It couldn't be. That wasn't possible.

   But there it was. Written out on the screen beneath a picture of her face. Zariah felt like throwing up.

   The entire world silenced around her, gravity forgotten, like the anchor keeping her there had frayed. There was nothing but those four words. Those four fucking impossible words. Everything else halted, her brain unable to compute the information in front of her. Natasha was...

   No. She couldn't be. It was fucking impossible.

   But here was her file. Her file stating...

   No. Your parents are dead. They're fucking dead. They're in graves six feet under.

   BIOLOGICAL MOTHER: NATALIA ROMANOVA.

   Zariah's heart was in her throat, her sense of being coagulating in her blood. The very foundations of her soul crumbling to ash under her fingertips. There was a noise, a voice ringing in her ears, but Zariah held no focus. Her mind was racing.

   Then, a touch. A hand on her shoulder. A blur of red hair. Blue eyes came to focus on a face, a recognisable face now slated with uncovered secrets. It couldn't be...

   Natasha stared at her, mouth moving in incomprehensible tones. It was all submerged by the whirlpool of her thoughts, a voice drowned out. The ice in her veins had melted and Zariah was drowning.

   Drowning.

   And she needed to swim.

   Hands raised to push Natasha away, forcing her to stumble back as Zariah rose her feet. Her head felt heavy, more watery words colliding in her ears as Natasha stared. Zariah brushed it off, not even glancing at the laptop thrown by her feet as she stepped over it. She needed to breathe.

   Her feet carried her severed from her mind, the two working independently. She didn't even realise she was running until she felt the wind in her hair, until she saw the blue sky above her. Her body had carried her to air, away from the unbearable drowning of the compound. But her throat still burned and her lungs ached, the chemical of tears stinging her eyes. It wasn't enough.

   The wind raked through her as her feet carried her further. Away from the compound. Away from her file. Away from...

   Like acid, tears burned tracks into the freckled skin of her cheeks. Leaving a trail of pain and confusion in their wake. A heartbeat thumped in her ears, breaths catching in her throat. Was the ground crumbling beneath her?

   Zariah didn't wake from her sunken haze until she felt her legs give way. Her back crashed into something hard, body sliding down the side of something until she hit the cold floor. She raked in gulping breaths, trying desperately to escape the sinking feeling in her chest. For the first time, she had the opportunity to look around. Her body had carried her to the back of the testing shed, crammed between two of the generators behind the building. She couldn't even recall jumping the fence.

   Zariah pushed all that aside as she tried to focus on her breathing, to expel the cold flood settled in her lungs. Laboured pants sounded into the quiet evening air, paired only by the soft hum of the generators caging her.