The child, a runaway, an escaped experiment, an enigma. Taken by a man prepared to do the unforgivable. With hidden memories and a complicated past, she stands alone. Injured, abandon and on the run; no one to trust and nowhere to go. A stolen child...
Nat crawled to the edge of the bed and stood up, looking through the darkness to where she knew the entrance to be. Wandering over to the door, Nat held her arms out in front of her, feeling blindly along the wall for the light switch, only the dim glow from her bedside table lamp to guide her. Feeling a change in texture on the wall, Nat pushed her fingers into it, pleased the switch had turned the lights on and not blown up the entire place. That would not have been good.
Nat's right eyebrow rose without her permission when she saw the absurdity of the design for a simple light switch. An almost hidden panel in the dark grey wall, outlined in a black matte box, was a dull silver panel no bigger than her palm.
Despite nearly a week passing since the incident, Nat hadn't actually studied, or even acknowledged the room that was now hers. She had only spent two nights in the room because Wilson had kept her in the med-bay for four days, but in that time, she hadn't bothered to actually explore the room. A queen-sized bed sat in the far-left corner as she looked at the room from the entrance. The bed had been pushed up against the walls just how she liked it. It was easier to defend yourself if you didn't have to watch your back. It also made it that much harder to sneak up on someone if there was only one direction you could approach them from, instead of a three-sixty option of attack.
Nat briefly wondered if Wilson knew that, or if it was just a coincidence. But he was a military man; he probably experienced the same comfort knowing his back was covered. The bedspread was a beautiful ocean themed cover. All the colours of the sea lined up in a gradient from the deepest blue to a seafoam white. Somehow the colour scheme alone seemed to bring a slither of peace to her heart. Nat knew she was alone, so she allowed herself to drop her guard slightly. No one was here at the moment. No one could hurt her.
A dark wooden bedside table stood next to the bed; the side lamp still turned on. Nat heard herself exhale harshly in what could be mistaken for a laugh when she realised the rocket ship-shaped object was a lava lamp. Those things were awesome and mesmerising to watch as you tried to fall asleep. The corner directly to her right sat a deep-blue beanbag atop a fluffy rug. A lounge chair seemed to close off the area as a separate part of the room, and the sight of bookshelves stocked with numerous stories brought a small smile to her face.
How had Wilson known that she liked reading? And more importantly, she realised as she came closer to the reading nook, how had he known what series she had been reading? As she was certain Wilson knew. The fact that all her current and intended reads, and even some of her older favourites sat on the shelves hanging on the walls was too much of a coincidence to have not been planned. Nat had often snuck out during the day to seek refuge in the local libraries. It had been a good distraction from... everything. She would always bring a few books back with here every time to help pass the endless hours of many sleepless nights.
Across the little reading corner against the back and right walls was a large desk that was protruding from the wall itself. It was painted a dark grey and was much longer against the back wall than the side, able to easily fit two large desk chairs side by side if you wanted to. The shorter end of the desk could still fit a chair comfortably and the desk appeared to be rather wide as well. Who needed a desk that large? There were two sets of draws, one at either end, as well as shelves located above the desk on the wall in the same place. In between the fuzzy blue rug and the desk was a silver door. It was the same colour as the light switch.
Nat knew that she was letting her curiosity get the better of her, but she could see no harm in indulging her inner child – seeing as her outer child was permanently unavailable. No one was around to see her, there were no cameras in the room, she was alone, she was safe. Nat slid the door across with tentative hands and felt against the left wall for a light switch. Finding an identical panel to before, Nat pressed the button. The room filled with a bright white light, revealing a spacious bathroom waiting to be discovered.
A shower-bath in the right corner closest to the door, a basket took up space behind the bath to the wall. Directly across from the door were two long metal rods, one slightly above the other. The far-left corner had a bench starting from the wall, coming a generous way out. The sink was off-centre to the left, a ring connected to the side for a handtowel. The last corner was occupied by the toilet. It was overly lavish and way more than necessary. How many eleven-year-olds had their own ensuite?
When Natasha turned around, she could see the far wall the length of the bed lay against. At the end of the bed was a dark brown box. On the same wall as the bedroom door was a tall dresser in the corner and shorter chest of draws. She headed to the unexplored corner of the room. Was this seriously all for her? Why? What was so important about her? It was definitely too nice and personalised to be a temporary place. Natasha opened the chest at the end of her bed and was greeted by an abundance of blankets and bedsheets.
"Right – blanket box – duh," she said to herself in an undertone. Closing the box, Nat turned around and stepped towards the dresser.
"What the..."
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