The Black Snake ☼ N. Romanoff

Chapter Seven.

Walking slowly, slowly because quickly would hurt too much, too much to bear, on such a long distance.

The science lab where she came from was five levels above her cells, and many corridors away.

So, slowly it was.

Her legs trembled with her steps, a bit more each time, but further than her legs, her arms, her bones, her veins, she could feel the blood pumping rapidly in her arteries, and her heart pumping in her head, her ears ringing, her breath staggered, her eyes heavy.

And she couldn't help but worry, if she could reach her room before they would give out.

Some leftovers of the Red Room, the fear of disappointing, not succeeding, though there was no Madame to stare menacingly and beat.

There was only Mavlor, the one and only guard who wasn't actively an ass to her and Calum, and he walked slowly behind her, he wasn't staring, or huffing, he just walked, and tried his best not to get ahead, not to rush her. Sometimes, she would see him wince as she was injected with different types of serums. Sometimes he'd even close his fist when she did, almost as if he felt the same pain she did. He was buff and tall, and scary surely to many, a harsh scar traveling his face, from eyebrow to chin, an eye missing, replaced by a small black ball of glass. His hair was brown, and thin, and he always bore a scowl on his face, cursing and throwing insults at all times. But surprisingly, towards the children, he never said anything. Especially when he took her back to her cells after the tests, this was when he was most quiet.

It was painful, but she hadn't screamed yet, though they tried their best to make her.

She wouldn't budge.

She wasn't trained all those years to silence, to now give in to the screams.

After some time, some pain, she had reached her cell, Mavlor, still behind her, had closed the door and locked it twice.

She looked in the broken mirror, yet only saw her shadow in the reflection.

Soon. She thought. Soon I'll be as ill looking as my brother, as weak and pale and skinny.

Her hair, which she was so used to maintaining clean and well managed in the red room, now looked greasy and brown, the dirt covering her original red color, the curls now flattened. Her eyes bloodshot, not from tiredness though, but from their shots of medication.

Slowly turning into bones and skin, she still did her routine exercises, remnants from the red room as well, no matter how weak she felt she would train every morning, after stretching, then dance a bit of ballet.

It was necessary to keep her form, her agility.

And every day, she would notice how hard and harder it would be to complete simple trainings, but still, she would do it. No matter how hard she was beaten by the guards, she would still do it, aching and in pain, she would do it. She wouldn't hide, she wouldn't cower like her brother did, in his corner of the room.

She wasn't taught as he was, after all.

She was taught to never let them see her weaknesses, and at this moment, she was very weak, therefore she needed to keep her composure now more than ever. She wouldn't give in to the pain as he was taught to, no, she wouldn't look down as he was taught. She clung to the hope that she would go back to the Red Room, see those marble walls again. And she couldn't be weak when Madame took her back. She couldn't look down and cower in front of Madame.

She had to keep going.

Though God only knew how much she wanted to curl up in a ball on the ground, and let some tears escape, roll down her cheeks.