kamilla vasilievna had lived a life of danger and blood. with a ledger as red as hers, she didn't think she deserved to live a normal life as camille vaughn. she didn't deserve to live. she didn't deserve to fall in love, especially to a pure soul l...
a/n: (edit) sorry for the notif. i had some parts to edit :)
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She didn't want to fight her. It took every will inside her body to ask why.
She is your enemy. Kill her. A voice told her— no, ordered her and her fist launched forward before she could question it. The woman in front of her dodges but it doesn't take long before she takes a hit. They had fallen from the pipe together, having been able to hold on together with the two women she was pursuing. She recovered much faster and began attacking her target, the one she fell on the ground with.
There was something about her "enemy". She looked familiar to her, in a familial sense. Was she family?
No, the voice came back again, a hint of anger seeping into his voice. His? She's your target. Eliminate her and the accomplice and return to the base. You are the only one who can break their defenses, Red Sparrow.
Another question came to her but it was quickly erased as she swiped her knife at the woman's face, cutting her cheek, and swiping her leg to send her on the ground. Pinning her down, she used her weight to keep her still but was confused when the woman wasn't fighting back. She was staring at her, the cut on her cheek flowing down to blend with her red hair.
That red hair.
It takes her down to her memories. The cool, wooden floors of the room with girls of different ages spinning on their toes; the snapping voice of Madame B ringing in her ears as the cold sensation of fear encompasses her. She remembered the gentle hand on her shoulder, the soft assurance of her safety from the doomed fate of failure in the Red Room, and that red hair.
"Mila."
The knife abruptly stopped, just mere inches from the neck of the woman. Kamilla stared, her mind running rampant with questions. Why did that name affect her so much? Who is this woman? Who am I to her? Why can't I kill her?
A soft hand on her cheeks snapped her from the flurry of thoughts clouding her entire body. She met the affectionate green eyes of her enemy. She wasn't sure if she could call her that at the moment. In the middle of her inner conflict, the woman called out again.
"Mila," There was so much hope in her voice and that confused her even more. What am I to her? "Your name is Kamilla Vasilievna, not the Red Sparrow. You're not a weapon, Mila."
"Stop," Her voice came out stern but unsure. She stood up and started pacing, muttering words in her breath.
The woman's eyes turned away for a moment before it was fixed on her as she got up from the water-filled floor. "You like to watch the stars because it's beautiful and you found it comforting that it lit up your room, even for a little bit. You loved to sing before you went to sleep until they made you stop."
