On the Run

16 - A Mother's Lament

Italia slid the glass panel behind her, the screams of Piotro becoming muffled almost. She ran her hand through her brown curls that were starting to grey. After she had finished straightening her hair out she wandered over to the other woman in the room. The woman wore a lab coat with titled glasses, her hair pulled up in a lazy bun. She was stood over a computer and would only look away from it to glance at the screaming subject behind the glass, ignoring the muffled cries for it to stop.

"How long does he have left until he completes the program?" Italia asked, her eyes burning into the woman.

"I don't know," the woman replied murmured, clearly distracted with whatever she was doing on the computer.

"Scusa," Italia said more impatiently.

"I said I don't know," the woman snapped, giving Italia a very dirty look with eyes that were practically sending daggers into Italia.

"You might want to think about how you talk to me, idiota," Italia gritted through her teeth. She felt her new impulses trying to take control again, but she fought back at them, not wanting another incident. She had already been warned, both verbally and psychically, and she didn't want to be caged away like some of the other subjects.

"What's the problem? Piotro was said to be the best subject yet," Italia then asked. She could still feel the biting violent needs kicking around her system, but she refrained from them.

"Sì, he was but now he's resisting it all," the woman answered as she tapped away at the computer, glancing up another two times at Piotro.

"How is that possible?" Italia asked, trying to get a glimpse of what the woman was doing on the computer, not that any of it made any sense to her. When Italia underwent the program herself, there was basically no way to fight it. And Piotro fighting it could only mean one thing – there was someone he was fighting it for. Someone that would need to be taken care off.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," the woman said, her voice went soft and quiet.

"Well, fix it," Italia ordered. She looked over to Piotro, the agony across his face didn't faze her in the slightest. The only thing she could think about was hurrying along the process.

"I don't answer to you," the woman said, her voice laced contempt. She gave Italia a viciously cold glare through the square glasses that rested on her youthful face.

On a whim, Italia grasped her ferociously by the throat, lifting her from where she was. Her fingers tightened around her throat and Italia could see the panic and fear that washed into her pupils, spreading onto her face.

"You know what I can do," Italia said through her teeth as she leaned into the woman in her lethal grip. The woman tried to free herself, but it did nothing.

"Are you sorry?" Italia asked. The woman shook her head frantically as a loose tear cascaded down her cheek and passed her trembling lips.

Italia let out a breath before a smile grew on her face. She lowered the woman back onto the floor and pulled away from her throat. The woman gasped and coughed, clutching her throat with her palm.

"Would Piotro survive if we increased the dosage?" Italia asked.

The woman took a few seconds to register the question, the pain pounding in her throat was starting to cause an agonising headache. She shook her head and looked up to Italia with watery eyes. "Yes, he would."

Italia smacked her lips together and nodded, a smirk curling up on the corner of her lips. "Good."

And within a split second, Italia grabbed the woman by her throat once again and snapped her neck. She let her drop to the floor with a heavy thud and looked over at Piotro. The screaming had calmed down slightly, but the pain was still ever present on his face. Italia stepped over the dead scientist and scanned over the computer. She clicked on the tab to check Piotro's vitals and saw the capacity of the experimentation.