Strife - The 100

Prologue

3rd POV

"Posture straighten."

"Hands behind back."

"Chin held up high."

"Always look people in the eyes."

Those were the things that were branded in precious, little Anastasia Frey head by her guardians. They didn't deserve the title of being her parents. They didn't even deserve to be seen as human beings. A sharp sting hit Anastasia on her left cheek, the force causing her to move her eyes from the ground as her head snapped to the side, her dark brown curls covering her watered eyes.

"You look at me in the eyes when I am speaking to you, you little brat!" She flinched when her disgrace of a father yelled with such volume, spit hitting her face and the stench of moonshine burned her eyes.

Rough hands grabbed her chin, jerking her chin so she could face him. She gave out a small whimper from the painful motion, no doubting her pale skin going to be bruised.

"Stop crying. Stop crying! Crying is for babies. Crying shows weakness," Mr.Frey snarled in her face.

"I-I'm so-," Anastasia cried out again when Mr.Frey backhanded her hard across the face, causing her to crumple to the ground.

Tears leaked down her face as she clutched her cheek. Silent sobs escaped her lips, her six year old body shaking. A yelp escaped her lips as she felt her hair being tugged roughly, making her stand back on her feet.

"Pl-Please," Anastasia cried out, her face scrunched up in pain. "St-Stop. It h-hurts."

"You disgraceful, piece, of waste! You deserve every ounce of pain inflicted on you. Hogging up all the oxygen!" Mr.Frey snarled in her face. "You are weak. Don't even deserve to have the privilege of living."

Anastasia began to cry from his harsh words, making Mr.Frey even more enrage. She cried out when he tugged on her hair even more painfully, his shouting blocking out her cries. A hand raised up in the air, she closed her eyes, preparing for the impact. It never came.

She was quickly shoved to the ground when the door to their room in the Ark suddenly opened. Anastasia looked that her moment to scoot back from Mr.Frey as he straightened up, his glare settling on her drug-addict mother. Mrs.Frey erupted into fits of giggles as she stumbled into the room, using the frame of the door to balance herself.

"Again, Patty," Mr.Frey hissed out in anger. "Did anyone see you?"

"Shh shh," Mrs.Frey or Patty shushed him,  her eyelids barely open as she placed an amusing finger against her lips. "Y-You gotta be quiet. You're gonna scare away the party."

Mr.Frey watched in disgust as Patty fell to the ground, bubbly laughter echoing in the room. Anastasia clamped her hands over her ears when they soon start to shout at each other. Blinking to clear her watery vision, she scurried her little feet to the farthest corner of the room. Shielding herself by placing herself in a fetus position, she began to rock back and forth, humming to herself to block out the screaming. Music always calmed her down but her father hated her fascination in the arts.

Her body shaking, her blood ran cold when the shouting stopped. That was never a good sign. Her little heart began to drum against her ribcage when heavy footsteps made way towards her direction. All she did was whimper in fear and hugged herself tighter. She sobbed when she was lifted back on her feet, earning once again another slap to the face.

"What have I told you," Mr.Frey sneered in her face. "About you humming? Hmm?!"

He shook her when she looked at the ground, not answering him. She shakily lifted her head, flinching from her own father.

"To never do it," Anastasia said in a very quiet voice.

"Yet, you disrespected my authority and did it anyway," Mr.Frey growled. "For that, you must be punished."

"N-no, daddy, please," Anastasia bursted with tears of fear, begging him. "Please, please, I'll never do it again."

"Quiet," he snapped at her, dragging her towards the table.

Continuing sobbing, she tried to escape her father's grasp but she was just a little kid. She was shoved against the table, her back faced to her father's. She tightly closed her eyes when she felt the back of her shirt being ripped open, exposing her bare back in the air.

"You make any sound, and the pain will be even worse," Mr.Frey threatened her as he took out his belt.

Anastasia stiffened her body, her little hands clenched by her sides as she prepared herself for the whipping across her back, most likely leaving even more scars than before. She bit her tongue, knowing that screaming for help would be useless. Nobody helped her. Nobody cared about her. They just see her as another privileged little girl with parents in the council. Her mother, working with medicine making it easier for her to get her hands on drugs. And her father, the superior guard in the Ark, channeling all of his rage on his own daughter who he thought wouldn't be able to fight back. Anastasia couldn't tell anyone. Nobody would believe the second those words leave her mouth. She's just a mere child. They would just scold at her for such accusation because to others, her parents are kind people who wouldn't lay a finger on anyone. They were important to the people in the Ark. They couldn't lose them

Anastasia begin to sing in her head, wanting to get out of this nightmare. A whimpered escaped her lips when she heard her father getting closer. Her heart hammering through her chest in fear as she couldn't stop her bottom lip from quivering. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, no matter how many times she has been ordered to stop crying.

She heard the slap of leather.

Then, her back was on fire.

Anastasia doe eyes snapped opened as she shot up in a sitting position in her bed. Cold sweat glistened out of her natural olive skin. Her beautiful curly hair, sticking around her face as her body shook. But not from the cold. It was just a nightmare. No, a memory from twelve years ago.

"Get a grip," she whispered to herself as she threw her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the grey floor.

She wasn't that little girl anymore. That girl died a long time ago. Now stands an eighteen year woman, who has seen and done too much that this world has thrown at her. She has done things that made people fear her. Been through things that would have brought anyone into tears and on their knees. But not to her, not anymore.

Her dark brown hair grew, brown eyes broken to no repair. She grew taller as the years passed by, standing at a proud five feet and eight inches. Lips a permanent pink that would always be twisted into a bitter scowl. Her features were sharp yet elegant with beauty. Dark eyebrows that are usually quipped up when she is taunting or being sarcastic with the guards. Anastasia is a rose with poisonous, lethal thorns.

Cursing at herself in her head for even remembering such a horrid thing in her past, she shot onto her feet when her cell door was opened. Body tense, ready to pounce, she glared with pure hate at the four guards that piled inside her room. She didn't say anything, her eyes darting across to each of the guards with calculating eyes, her stance never faltering. Dark thoughts entered her mind of every possible way she could do to kill those breathing organisms and escape her hell.

"Prisoner 219," this made her clench her jaw at the label. "Face the wall."