Fly, little ballerina

5. Diagon Alley

TW: details of violence and physical abuse.

Thursday 31st August 1995 – 1 day later

Mila shot up from her bed, drenched in sweat after yet another nightmare. They had become more frequent the past few days, probably from the stress of this mission. The new environment was strange, so this whole ordeal was understandably difficult, resulting in the current situation: Mila sat up in her bed, sobbing like baby.

Taking a few minute to calm herself, Mila pressed a hand to her chest to try to help regulate her breathing. If her sisters were here, they would press her head against one of their chests, forcing her to listen to their heartbeats. That had always helped, but now, she was all alone after not one, but both her sisters had abandoned her. Mila was reminded once again, just how isolated she really was. The thought alone made her cry harder.

Mila's breathing did in fact not calm, she sat curled against her pillows sobbing her heart out. In a childish attempt to calm down, she picked up a small, white, stuffed bunny from her duffle bag. She had somehow managed to keep it since her childhood mission with her sisters and Melina. Natasha had bought it for her with some money she stole.

Unfortunately, Mila only cried harder at the thought of her sisters.

I just want my sisters.

She felt pathetic for feeling so alone, for crying, for even being anxious. Although she was the red room's best assassin, she felt like anything but. She was taught to think with her head, to never let emotions influence her judgement yet here she was, lying against her headboard, clinging to pillow, and sobbing as though her life depended on it.

The nightmare itself did nothing to help calm her and thanks to her HASM, she would never forget it.

Mila was strapped down to a table on her way to the laboratory. She couldn't have been any older than 8 years old. She was moving around, trying to get herself free but it was useless. A guard roughly taped her mouth shut and slapped her, hard. "Shut up, you little cunt!" After a struggling a moment more, they had arrived in the lab.

Mila looked around to try and figure out what was happening, but the lights were so bright that it was too difficult. The surgical tools; scalpels, clamps, lap pads etc... kept clinking as the doctors set their area up.

To say Mila was terrified was the understatement of the millennia.

Then the doctors harshly ripped off the duct tape, leaving red, irritated skin around her mouth. Before Mila could open her mouth to question what was going on, Dreykov walked in the surgical suite and stalked right up to her, a sickening grin in his face.

"Why are you so scared my dear? This is an important moment. Today is your first of two graduations!"

Mila's eyes widened, filling with unshed tears. She knew exactly what 'graduation' meant. She would lose her ability to have children. But something about what he said wasn't right; widows only got one graduation.

"I have seen your potential. Today is marking the graduation of your extra training. Normally girls graduating this training kill someone, but you have already done that, so it wouldn't be a gift." Dreykov put his hands up before continuing, "Today you will be awake for most of the procedure. If you do well this time, we might consider putting you to sleep next time." Dreykov wore the same sinister grin that would forever be etched into her nightmares.

Mila sobbed and screamed until her voice was raw. They hadn't given her any pain meds until after the incisions were made and then they had done such a sloppy job that the meds had worn off before the wound was fully stitched up. She had never experienced such torture before.