𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗

Chapter 10: A Lost Identity

(Kore's P.O.V.)

Whip.

I'm still as a rock, unmoving.

Whip.

Even as the stinging pain continues.

Whip.

Shit. Tears threaten to form, but I hold it. I can't let them see. Let him see. Three new gashes on my back, great.

"Vy byli pochti poymany, (You were almost caught,)" the Director says. His voice is almost predatory; like he's enjoying this. Watching me slowly unravel in front of him. My chest is heaving up and down, my breathing heavy as to contain the screams that wanted so badly to escape through my lips. He's circling me now.

"Eto bol'she ne povtoritsya, ser. (It won't happen again, sir.)"

"Nadeyus', net. (I should hope not.)" He stops directly in front of me. I'm still standing deathly still, my arms at my sides. He'd ordered me to dispose of my shirt so I was left in my training leggings and a sports bra, both black. The cuts from the whip were more easily made when there wasn't any clothing in the way. My hair was falling out of its ponytail from the intense training I'd been put through earlier today, many strands falling in my face. I could feel it sticking to my neck as sweat trickled down my body. It stung the cuts on my lower back. My eyes stare past his shoulders. His fingers reach up to twirl a strand of my hair. I swallow the growing lump in my throat and suppress the shudder that runs down my spine. I've never been afraid of him before. For fuck's sake, I could break him right here and now if I wanted to. Wait... but then, why don't I? His finger brushes my cheek as he continues and I clench my teeth together. Please stop... dear God, please make him stop.

"Znayesh', u tebya krasivyye volosy, (You have beautiful hair, you know,)" I don't say anything. There's a small pause before he continues. "Khotya ya dumayu, chto eto vydast slishkom mnogo tvoyey lichnosti. Ty ne dumayesh'? (Though I think it will give away too much of your identity. Don't you think?)" My stomach clenches. No... no, no, no, no. I knew his reasoning was bullshit. He was just looking for power, a way to make my pride falter. I force my expression not to change, though I'm sure he can see the hurt in my eyes.

"Da, (Yes,)" is all I say because I know if I say anything more my voice will crack and I'll burst into tears.

"Khoroshiy otvet. (Good answer.)" Almost immediately he's handed a pair of scissors from a guard. But before he begins, he does the most unexpected thing I never would have imagined he would do. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. It took everything I had to keep a straight face as I stared into his extremely deep cobalt eyes. I'd never gotten the chance to look at his facial features either, surprisingly sharp cheekbones and a defined chin. He couldn't have been any older than thirty. There was a scar that ran from his right temple, across the bridge of his nose and to his left cheek. Otherwise, I would have deemed him somewhat handsome. But now, at this moment, I hated him with everything I had in me. He seems to be waiting for something. With as much control over my actions as I could muster, I dare to stare harder into his eyes, a silent challenge I make only recognizable to me, before muttering.

"Slav'sya, HYDRA. (Hail HYDRA.)" He releases my chin abruptly and disappears behind me, pulling on what's left of myself ponytail and taking out my hair-tie. Damn, I'm going to hate myself after this.

Song That Inspired This Chapter: Russian Roulette - Rihanna