Found You - James B. Barnes

15. Cuts and Stitches

Leviathan Training Center, Siberia, Russia - April, 1956

Yesterday, Winter taught the girls for 6 hours, only interrupted by lunch. They drilled their hand-to-hand combat until exhaustion.

Two of the girls, Nina and Vera, are still visibly fatigued. I took the time to learn each of their names, it's something Edith would do.

Maria, Olga, Zoya, Sofia, Anya, Yulia, Dima, Nina, Vera and of course, Katya. Despite their varying heights and hair, they all look like matching dolls, lined up on a shelf.

I perch on a wooden bench that wasn't here yesterday, notebook at the ready. Winter is teaching them how to fight with knives today, every part of me wants to leap forward and stop this. Children shouldn't play with knives, much less be taught to play with knives.

Winter picks up two knives from the table on the far side of the room, slipping one into a sheath on his leather uniform. He flips the knife in the air, catching it effortlessly. His metal arm shining under the fluorescent lights. He walks slowly to the center of the room, each student tracking his movements carefully.

"A knife is an extension of your arm. You must use it as efficiently as such."

His empty voice reverberates through the room. He beckons Katya forward. She steps onto the mat, a hint of pride in her step.

Winter made sure to practice with each of the students individually yesterday, but he always picks Katya for the initial demonstration. She's the top of her class, but I'm beginning to think Winter might just like her. If he was capable of that.

"Hold it like this, tight but not tensing your wrist."

He places the dagger in her hand, wrapping her fingers in the correct position. He nods in approval before demonstrating a few basic strikes, jabs to the abdomen and sweeping the neck. She mirrors his movements for a few moments before Winter crouches, getting into a defensive position.

"Now, fight me."

He instructs, allowing Katya to position herself before he darts forward, thrusting his knife at her abdomen. She blocks his strike before sweeping her blade at his left leg. He sidesteps sharply.

"Good, keep on the ball Katya."

Winter slashes at her neck and she ducks, but it's too close for comfort. A hint of pride flickers across her face, but she quickly steels her features again.

Then it happens.

Winter lunges forward, much faster than before, sweeping his blade across Katya's right arm. But she is too slow to dodge or block his attack.

A line of red blooms on her pale skin. Running over her arm and dripping on the floor. She gasps but lets out no cries of pain. Her grip on the knife tightens before it clatters to the floor echoing through the room.

My stomach flips, not due to the sight of blood, but from the fact that it's Katya's. She's only five years old. How can I possibly stand here and just watch these girls get injured?

Hydra makes me sick everyday that I know of their existence. My blood begins the boil, but I try to push it down, this isn't going to help at all.

After a split second, I spring to action, running forward to her aid, crouching by her side.

Katya is still just staring at her arm in shock letting the blood fall unceremoniously to the concrete floor. I pull a white handkerchief from my pocket and press it to her wound.

"Are you alright?"

I ask, urgency in my tone. She nods slowly. Winter shifts behind me, I turn to see Winter's eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open. It's the most emotion I have ever seen from him.