Natalia was 7 when they first took her innocence.
Now, at age 17, she had none left.
The last remaining shard that she had clung onto for dear life, she lost it too.
Life was never easy for Natalia Romanova. It couldn't be, what with the constant fear of not being good enough, the physical pain from training, and the emotional damage.
Day and night, it was a struggle. Sometimes, Natalia barely pulled through.
To an outsider's point of view, it would seem as though she had lost all of her innocence years ago. By the age of fourteen, she had been forced to kill and torture. But there was a piece of her innocence that she held on to for an entire decade.
Until she lost it.
Natalia's mind raced back to the cold, snowy day (what was new?), four months ago when she was handed a manila folder.
As one of the most promising and trusted girls in the Red Room Academy, she was frequently sent on solo missions. Some were easy, some were hard. The file contained a routine mission.
She was to pose as a client for a psychologist. She would inconspicuously extract information from the doctor, then steal a file of a certain client. She would then drop off the file at a designated spot and return. Simple.
Natalia wished it had been that easy.
The therapist was a nice woman. She had deep brown eyes that were crinkled in the corners, plump lips that were smiling reassuringly, and a long nose that sat oddly on her face.
"Maria?" she said. "That is your name, correct?"
"Yes," Natalia lied.
"Come in, come in!"
She was ushered into a small office with beige walls and big windows. There were shelves lining the walls and a small desk in the corner, as well as two arm chairs in the middle.
"How are you doing today?"
"Fine."
"And how has your week been?"
"Fine," Natalia replied again, stiffly. She had not realized that there would be so much talking. It was unusual for a mission.
The doctor surveyed her, and Natalia felt an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, as though the doctor was seeing through her lies.
"Is this your first time in therapy?" she asked.
"...Yes."
"Well then, I would like you to know," she shifted in her seat. "My office is a safe place where you can talk. You can tell me anything, and whatever you say will not leave these walls. Believe it or not, I want to help you, not pry into your life. Now, how are you really feeling?"
"Not so great," she found herself saying. It was a strange feeling. It was like she was in some sort of euphoric high, and could not control what she was saying. There was a warm and fuzzy feeling that made her want to spit out her deepest, darkest secrets. Staring into the doctor's eyes, Natalia tried to steady herself. She knew she was sober, but the feeling was so foreign and new, that she stared suspiciously at the cup of tea she was holding..
"Why is that?"
Natalia just shrugged.
"Can you tell me a bit about your life?" Seeing the hesitancy behind the redhead's eyes, she spoke up again, "I'll tell you a bit about mine first, how does that sound?"
Natalia nodded.
"As you know, my name is Anastasia. I am thirty-three years old. I have two dogs and a husband. I enjoy my job as a psychologist, but I equally enjoy playing the piano. Your turn."
"I'm Maria," she started off slowly. "I'm nineteen. I don't have any dogs, but I would like one. I like ballet."
The doctor seemed to notice that she had avoided the subject of family.
"Are you close with your parents?"
"No, they're dead."
The doctor smiled sadly at her. "I'm sorry, that must have been very hard for you."
"I don't remember them," Natalia brought her knees up to her chest. "They died when I was five."
"Do you have any other family or a support system?"
"No, I go to a boarding school where they teach us ballet. And I don't have friends."
Natalia went through the remaining hour of the therapy session with difficulty. She began to stray away from her fake identities and began incorporating her life into her replies. She felt a sense of calm, talking with Anastasia. She talked about how lonely and scared she was in her boarding school, and how she was worried she wouldn't make it until graduation. Her mission began slipping further and further to the back of her mind. And when there was fifteen minutes remaining, she suddenly burst out.
"I was lying."
"Pardon?"
"This whole time, I was lying," Natalia clenched her fists. "My name isn't Maria. It's Natalia. I'm not nineteen, I'm seventeen. And the school I attend isn't a regular school, it's an academy where they teach girls how to fight and kill. I've been there since I was five, after they killed my parents. Ballet is a cover up. They teach us stuff in there. We practice with guns and knives and ropes and swords and all sorts of weapons. They kill the ones that aren't good enough. They hurt us. We have to fight and kill our friends to survive."
She took a deep breath and looked up, scared of what Anastatsia's reaction would be. To her utter surprise, her face was impassive. Even with all of her training, she couldn't tell what Anastasia was thinking.
"Well? I kill people!" Natalia shouted at her. "I learned to kill people, and it's my job! How can you help with that?"
Her eyes were burning and tears were forming at the corners of her eyes.
Despite the bit of shocking news that had been thrown at her, Anastasia treated Natalia just like she had before. With a kind, warm smile, she handed Natalia a tissue. She spent the rest of the session reassuring the crying girl.
"It's a deadly environment, Natalia," she finished up with surprising calmness. "To have survived this far, you are a strong, willful girl, but the things you have been forced to do are hurting you, I can tell. I've never encountered such a case like this, and I doubt that even I, as a doctor, am qualified to help you. But I'll have you know, you are strong enough. One day, you will be able to escape this life.
Natalia knew her life was fucked up. She had seen the movies, read the books. She knew normal kids were not raised in an academy where they learned to kill and become master spies. She knew assassins were the bad guys. But she never quite new how fucked up her life was until the therapy session with Anastasia. In some ways, it helped Natalia understand the world (and her life) better. But it still hurt her. Anastasia's kind words patched up her wounds, but the reality broke her again.
Realizing the full extent of what she had been taught, someone finally telling her that it was all wrong, that was the final shard of her innocence. It was ripped from her soul and left a gaping hole in her body. And she knew she could never get it back.
Natalia got up slowly, shaking a bit. She hesitated, but embraced the doctor in a hug.
When they finally pulled away, Natalia plunged a knife deep into the doctor's heart. Something inside of her felt like it was being ripped apart as she looked down at the lifeless body. She felt a wave of guilt, remembering how kind the doctor was to her, and how she had a family waiting for her at home. Two fluffy dogs. A smiling husband. She brushed it all aside and rummaged through the doctor's files, searching for an Antonin Hernych.
Once she found it, she wiped down the entire office, left some misleading evidence, and left.
Natalia blankly dodged a knife then swung hers at her opponent. Her mind was empty, except for the screaming.
It had started the night after her Antonin Hernych file mission, and had never stopped since then. Her mind was full of screams, and her heart was in pain. She kept remembering the face of the doctor, and the lifeless body. She remembered their talk and the voice.
"One day, you will be able to escape this life."
Natalia swung her arm more aggressively.
"One day, you will be able to escape this life."
She narrowly missed a jab at her heart.
"One day, you will be able to escape this life."
"One day, you will be able to escape this life."
Natalia's head spun and the words enveloped her. The only form of escape she could think of was if she plunged her knife to her chest. Gripping the handle tightly, Natalia rushed out of the room. She heard faint yells, but she ignored them. She ran and ran and fast as she could down the cold hallway and paused in front of the large mirror. She could barely think straight as she raised the knife.
She heard footsteps.
She inhaled, then forcefully plunged the knife into her body.
Natalia wanted to die.
But maybe a small part of her didn't. A small voice inside of her brain protested. It was a voice that sounded eerily like the Anastasia's. And maybe it was because of that voice that her hand slipped and the knife ended up an inch away from where she wanted it to be.
She didn't die.
She woke up in the hospital ward, but kept her eyes clenched shut. She breathed rhythmically and took in her surroundings. She could smell rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. The bed she was in was stiff and uncomfortable. There was a regular beeping coming form the monitor, but it wasn't the only sound she heard. There were voices.
"She is weak. We should dispose of her."
"And end her misery?" an unfamiliar voice rang out.
"She will not survive," her ballet teacher said.
"She will," this voice belonged to the headmistress.
"How will you keep her alive when even she herself does not want to?"
"Oh, trust me. This only made her stronger."
Natalia felt a chill run down her spine.
She knew she would have to face the consequences of her actions. She would be punished very severely. But maybe the twisted words of the headmistress was correct. Maybe she was stronger.
She still wanted to die. She still felt the pain. But for some unknown reason, she was not afraid anymore.
She opened her eyes.