In Their Hands ✧･ BARNES ✔

𝟎𝟓|пять

 NOW, SHE WAS OLD ENOUGH.  She was four years old. Natalia knew exactly what that meant, even if the young girl didn't. They would take her any minute now, and they would force her to be the girl that Natalia wished to avoid her daughter from becoming. 

   She wanted to plan out an escape, but she was smarter than that. All of the guards within the facility against her was a stupid, helpless fight. She could take out many of them alone, but not all of them. Even if she did escape, the men would come after her again and again. The only way to stop them was by burning the facility to the ground.

   She spent the last few days with Zola in the cage. She taught her as much as she could so that the men would never beat her up for not understanding. She never told her about James, or why she couldn't know him, nor why he beat her up.

   They continued to sleep together and cuddle into each other for warmth in the nights. They continued to share their small servings of food with each other and they did this up until the day where they took Zola away from her mother. 

   Zola stayed in her own cage now. Although Natalia was somewhere in the colossal building, she wasn't with her daughter anymore, and she wouldn't be for a long amount of time. Zola continues to hide her small frail body in the darkest corner of her new cell. There were no windows this time. She had much less food now. She was skinny and pale from being inside and from barely eating. She was sad and afraid without her Mom stuck inside of here with her.

   She didn't know why they took her away, or where they took her too. Although she was young, she was smart enough to understand that it would be stupid of her to try and run away. Zola was young, but her mind was well beyond her years. To be honest, Natalia Romanova had been the one to teach her, so what else could we expect?

   She was for sure smarter than all of the girls here, which might keep her alive a little longer than the rest of them. 

   She remembered how it felt when the nights were cold and she saw the white specks of dust falling from the sky. Her mom would hold her as close as possible in order to keep her warm. Even if she still shivered and even if she was still cold, knowing that she was within her mom's embrace made her feel a bit better. 

   Zola jumped in panic when she heard the footsteps begin to beat the floors. She shut her eyes tightly and begged anyone to stop them from coming to her. Anything that she did have, they took it away, and she didn't want them to take anything else. It wasn't like there was much left to take, really.

   The pounding thud of the boots against the hard floors approached closer and closer as the time slowly went by. She didn't move from her spot in the corner. If anything, she scooted even closer to the walls so that she would be further out of sight, hopefully. Maybe they wouldn't see her.

   When the boots stopped in front of what she knew was her cell, she tried to keep her breaths quiet and her body still. If they saw that she was scared they would torture and beat the fear out of her. Fear was simply not something that was tolerated here. 

   She sat sill as she waited for them to speak, to threaten her, to push open the iron door, to mock her or shout at her, anything. 

   "Vstavat'." An unfamiliar voice demands coldly. With disgust. With hatred. She couldn't understand what there was to hate about her. She barely knew them, they didn't know her at all. Stand up.

   Obediently, she slowly and shakily rises to er feet. She doesn't turn to face the party just yet.  Her back faces them as she keeps her head down: she nervously and fearfully stares at the floor. 

    She hears him snicker quietly and mysteriously which causes a fearful shiver to run down her spine. She hated when they did that. Zola figured they were making fun of her or something, but it also freaked her out. 

   She felt uncomfortable standing there with them all watching her. She continued to stand with her back facing them until the new man speaks again.

   "Povernis'." He says dangerously as the men begin to open the door and come inside. She immediately begins to panic when she hears them throw the door open and she tries to run away before they get to her. She would've tried harder, but there was nowhere for her to go. Turn around.

   They grabbed both of her arms tightly, squeezing especially in the wrist area just to bring her more pain. She reacted quite well, simply by groaning and screaming out momentarily. She didn't shed a tear, but she was scared. She wanted them to go away. She would rather be without her mom if that meant that they would leave her alone.

   They men dragged her until she stood in front of the tall, skinny, blonde-ish old man with blue eyes. He looked down on her with a small smirk of entitlement. After seconds of Zola staring back in fear, the man bends down to her level with his hands resting above his knees.

   "You are a special girl," He tells her in english. He stupid smirk doesn't waver. His wrinkles stretch into that hideous barbaric smile he held on his old, peach face. "Therefore, we must teach you how to become even more special. Useful, even." The man continued on, beginning to remove is hands from his thin legs as he stood up straight again.

   She didn't understand what that was supposed to mean, but she didn't show it. If they could see that she didn't know, they would beat her until she did.

    "We will teach you how to fight. You will learn to stand up for yourself." He continues to tell her.

   He stared coldly into the blue eyes of the man to Zola's left, which was the broken man with one arm of flesh and one of metal. The man who barely knew what he was doing and the man who barely knew who he was. He stared at the man with that same smirk of entitlement. It was disgusting and ugly because he was above them and they couldn't change that. He was in control, they had to listen.

   "You will never say no." The man with the metal arm instructs, tugging her arm roughly as he emphasizes the word "never" specifically. Zola tilted her head and looked up at him in fear. His eyes were staring right back at the old man who stood patiently at the cage's door.     

   Zola looked at the black haired, blue eyed soldier fearfully, yet curiously. He was the same man who attacked her that night. But right now, he looked different than he did that day. He looked hesitant; he looked like he didn't want to be here and like he didn't want to be doing this. He looked like he was being forced to say and do something that he didn't. She didn't know how to name the emotions that she could read in his expression, but she knew that they were there. 

   When he attacked her the night that her Mom was gone, he didn't look like this. He was confident, and his eyebrows dipped inward in a serious, angry manner. Right now, it looked like he could not muster that anger. He wasn't the same person, but Zola didn't know why. 

   James didn't know why either. But he didn't know why he felt to awkward or wrong hurting the small redhead before him. It felt wrong even if he had done it so many times before. He didn't want to hurt her, but he had to follow rules. He had to make his actions believable to the Superior who controlled them all.

I'm sorry that this was such a short chapter, but i will try to post a longer one soon. School has been so difficult lately so please bare with me as I try to find the time for updates! Thank you.