Stars ☆ PARKER

sixteen : the inbetween

~

To Ana, most times the worst part about being forced to live in Hydra wasn't the missions she was sent on, or the rigorous training they forced her through, it was the days inbetween.

For most of the days she was left to her own devices to sit in her cell. When Alec still resigned in the cell next to hers, they could talk all day if both were caught in the between.

They could talk about their families (or in Anastasia's case, the lack thereof), what they wanted to do if they escaped (Alec liked to tell her, "it's not if we get out, it's when we get out, my darling"), or sometimes they would just talk.

Anastasia couldn't help but love the sound of Alec's voice. The gruffness of how they were both treated was heard and felt in his voice. Sometimes, when they wouldn't be fed for days, it would dip even deeper and gain an even rougher tone.

When Alec wasn't in the between with her, she would watch, she would listen, and she would feel.

Watch the guards march through the halls, sometimes dragging her fellow prisoners.

She would listen to the cries of children that were caught in the wrong place and captured to live their lives as Anastasia had been forced to, parentless and tortured. The screams from various rooms in Hydra seemed to haunt the girl in the limited amount of sleep she managed to catch.

Screams from physical torture. Screams of grief from losing someone the person screaming must have cared for deeply.

Sometimes, Anastasia thought it was both in the same scream.

There was a certain energy that all Hydra bases had in common. Although Anastasia was primarily based in the south of Russia, she had traveled through most of the bases in Europe for various reasons. Sometimes she was needed for missions, sometimes the scientist just needed someone experienced enough to experiment on. Regardless, she had seen plenty more bases than most children and teenagers should have.

Every base that Anastasia visited all had the same energy, aura, vibe, which ever word was used to describe it, and it was distinct enough Anastasia had grown used to it, she even found it comforting some nights while thinking of the things that she could do if or when she escaped.

The only way to describe the vibe all bases had in common was a sickly yellow. A shade of yellow that was found in bile or too-old daisies that were left in the sun. There was a silver, dusty and metallic outline to the yellow that never quite went away.

The bases never quite smelt the same, fore say, some smelt of burning or rotting flesh and others had the overwhelming scent of blood and gunpowder, it was all depending on what the branch was specialized in.

Anastasia couldn't help but imagine what could have been. A father that loved his wife enough to have a child with her. They would be hopelessly in love and do anything for each other. He would bring her home her favorite flowers and she would make his favorite meals for dinner.