𝐏𝐓 | ❝𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳❞.
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Your life was never meant to turn out that way.
But the question here is: is anything ever meant to be?
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°•.various x fem!reader.•°
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⚠️𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:⚠️...
╔════════════════════╗ ❝Everything Goes According to Plan (more or less)❞ ╚════════════════════╝
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If you ever were told, as a child, that you would end up enrolled in a Top Secret Interpol's Project, you wouldn't have believed any part of it, for obvious reasons. Who, in their right state of mind, would? Yet there you were...
The room was cold and empty, white tiles from ceiling to floor. It would have looked almost unused if it wasn't for the small droplets of blood scattered around on the tiles. And, even though you were alone in there, you still felt watched. The surveillance camera, with a red-lit dot, answering your doubt.
They were indeed following your every scarce movement. Their minds rushing with different thoughts. They were risking too much, and you were sure they were well aware of that. But still, they didn't kill you yet, and that was a good start.
Speaking of minds, yours was a complete mess, to say the least. You were just starting this mission and the truth is that it was already taking a huge toll on you. The past events that you thought you already got over, returning back, increasing the huge cloud of negative feelings that were desolating you. The invisible weight on your shoulders growing with each passing moment and the unsettling knot in your stomach tightening with each self-destructive thought. Your mind crashing with the reality you were living, with the things you've already lived and with what was waiting for you in a near future.
Blurred images from the past fogged your present. At that moment, you weren't locked away in a room, you weren't in a potential death situation; you were in a small classroom, full of no more than 20 children, not older than you. In fact, you were the oldest one out of every one of them. But that didn't really matter, they were as cruel as any human being could be, at least that's what your 7 years old self would think. Their daily hurtful comments adding to your already fucked up life. The life you didn't wish any child, any person, to experience.
Your parents' death was a daily reminder of what was awaiting you: a forthcoming and not desired end. But, before that, a whole lot of suffering. At least, that's what your little self would think at that time. The truth is you were laking a lot of things: from a paternal or maternal figure, to consequently, happiness. And to be honest, the woman that was supposed to take care of you, your aunt, was never of any kind of guidance or help for you.
And after, little by little, stepping out of that dark moment of your life, your childhood, you found out that in your despair, you weren't completely alone. The truth is that Sasha and her family always had their arms open for you, what your parents couldn't do anymore, what your aunt didn't do just because, they did it. They always did, and they always will do. Or would, if you weren't already dead for them; which made you think of how your best friend would be feeling at the moment.
