FILE n°888 | SUBJECT RED
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the red room academy
russia, unknown
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december, 2011
Sashenka had dreams of her Papa.
The five year old reached out to tap her bruised fingers on her father's knee, grabbing his attention with the simple yet endearing gesture she had learnt to use instead of communicating with words as she was unable to do.
Her Papa turned around, watching with a soft smile as his daughter dragged the piece of coal across the cement floor, forming words like he had been teaching her after every one of his missions. The little toddler was a fast learner, pointing out every object she could find and emitting frustrated huffs and puffs of air until her Papa chuckled and told her the word for it, writing it down with the piece of coal he had carved into some sort of chalk for her to write and draw with while he was on missions.
"What are you writing there you little Spitfire?" The Soldier inquired, leaning his metal and flesh arms against his knees to take a look at what the redhead was writing. The nickname 'Spitfire' had come pretty natural to the Soldier after only three days of knowing her. He had taken an immediate notice to the way she would communicate through her breathing, whether it was regular, erratic or even when she purred like a cat. He always imagined that if Sashenka had powers she would become a bright ginger salamander that could breathe fire like one of those action card characters he had seen kids trading while he was on a mission in Japan.
He got off the cot he was lying on, and walked over to stand behind the little red head, making his presence known by tapping the ball of his foot twice on the floor before standing behind her. He knew the fact that she couldn't speak had her slightly on edge at all times, so they worked out a system where anyone approaching her had to make their presence known before doing anything. Anyone who didn't do what they had decided on was a threat.
The Soldier didn't say it enough, but he was amazed at the progressed she had made in just a few months of knowing him. She looked healthier, her cheeks seemed fuller and the nails on her hands and feet were slowly growing back. She got beaten up less, the Soldier acting as a shield when he could, which resulted in fewer bruises on her face. Her personality was also starting to develop more, he learned that she was curious, stubborn, timid but with a great deal of spunk once her defensive barriers were taken down.
Sometimes he thought of trying to get her out of the facility, arranging for her to be sent away, to another family in the outside world, where maybe she would go to school, get to graduate and lead the semi normal life she deserved to have. She didn't deserve to have a father who couldn't trust his own mind and a mother who most likely thought she was dead. She deserved more, even if it meant not being tightly wrapped against his chest every night.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched his daughter glance up at him with her ever so innocent blue eyes, the Russian word 'Мамуля' meaning 'mother' written in coal across the floor.
"How did you learn that? I didn't give you that word." He asked Sashenka, regretting his question as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew the guards liked to run their mouths and mentally torture his daughter as well as physically, he wasn't surprised that they had chosen the topic of her mother to taunt the poor child.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑 | romanoff-barnes ¹
Fanfiction- SHE WAS A SWEET, ROTTEN THING. Born dead, tossed in a metal coffin, reborn as an experiment, Subject RED was destined for great things. Not a child, not a girl, but a weapon. But what she would become was not a mere resuscitation of life. No, she...
