bulletproof

20

a/n *italics indicate that it's a dream*

Y/N ran her fingers over her lips as she walked to her room. She could still feel the soft fluttering of Steve's lips on hers, even if they'd kissed a few hours ago. She still had the warm, sunny feeling in her, and she couldn't stop smiling. She had to fight away the urge to twirl on the spot and just...dance instead of walk. Every footstep seemed lighter than the next. She was walking on clouds, it felt.

The sky was on fire. As she closed her curtains, she could see the clouds ablaze. The tinges of blue were fading as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky, hiding just behind the horizon. And just above the swirls of pink and orange, the sky was painted dark, bringing in pinpricks of light.

She leapt into bed, pulling her duvet up over her face, unable to wipe away the wide grin stitched into her mouth. Finally...everything was piecing itself back together again.

But she knew that the good feelings would fade away and she'd be stuck with her nightmares again. And she didn't want that. The thought of falling asleep and being left unguarded to the horrific memories of the Red Room left her weak-kneed and shaky-breathed.

Dark thoughts were surfacing to the forefront of her brain as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her bedroom and she focused on the kiss, on her floating, happy feelings about Steve, but they weren't strong enough to drown out the screams and gunshots reverberating around in her head.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she heard the soft notes of piano stringing through the air. She spun around to the door, trying to figure out where the eerie tune was coming from but couldn't pinpoint a specific area.

Her feet decided which direction to take for her, dragging her down hallways to the staircase going up to the roof. She mindlessly took step after step, up the staircase, reaching to the top and pushing the door hard, making it swing open aggressively and bang into the wall on the other side. She couldn't think. Her mind was clogged up with the familiar sounds of piano, singing a haunting melody back from Russia.

As she got to the roof and her feet landed safely on the concrete floor, the music stopped, and she tumbled to the ground, crashing her knees to the hard surface. Jarring pain flooded towards her legs and she winced as she directed her attention to her knees. Clenching her teeth, Y/N got back up, clutching the door side as she hauled herself back upright to a standing position. Where had the music come from?

The melody had been so enrapturing. It had taken control of her body and dragged her to the roof. Why? The music was too familiar. It gave off a feeling of disconcertment as waves of familiarity sang out of it. She remembered dancing to it. Dancing until her feet bled...looking beautiful and dancing to beautiful music while she ached on the inside.

The tune restarted, playing a composition from 'Swan Lake'. Panic waltzed through her, tap-dancing against her heart and stomach, and mixing into her blood, resting in her bones.

Her limbs started to move without her commanding them to, her toes curling into pointes and her arms curving into swan-like gestures. She couldn't stop moving. The only beat she could listen to, to follow the music, was her heartbeat, and each palpitation was too fast to count.

Her body moved in routine, and she begged for it to stop.

Her feet hurt. She wanted to stop but she wasn't allowed to. She had to keep dancing. She had to stay strong...because strength is the only thing that allows you to stay sane in this place.

As she spun, the roof turned into a ballet studio. Exactly like in the Red Room. And in the far-right corner of the studio stood the Mistress, back straight, gun tucked in her belt. She held a sour expression on her face and Y/N's heart sank into a chasm of despair as she saw it. The Mistress was disappointed. She knew what that meant, and she dreaded it.