Natasha couldn't remember much of her time before the Red Room. There was a host of conflicting images in her head, so it was hard to be certain what was real and what was not. All she knew was that there was a world outside of the Room and she longed to see it.
Her first taste of freedom came easily. She waited until night when they were supposed to be sleeping. Getting out was simple enough. She squeezed her hand out of her restraints rather than risk unlocking her handcuffs and bringing attention to herself. Natasha was the smallest of the twenty-eight girls. She was also nimble and clever enough to recognize the patterns of their guardians.
Night after night, she would wait for her moment then slipped out. There wasn't much to see outside the facility. The town was small and most of the shops and things were closed by the time she made her excursions. Her time was mostly spent scrounging up salvageable bits of bread and fruit from dumpsters behind restaurants and taking the scraps back to the other girls.
Occasionally, however, she looked at the clothing in shop windows or watched the dancers training for auditions for the Bolshoi or the Mariinsky. The ballerinas were her favorite. She envied their beauty and grace. But mostly she was jealous of the peaceful tranquility they exuded. They looked free when they moved and she longed for that feeling.
Natasha continued watching them for weeks. Each time feeling more confident in her escape and questioning what would happen if she didn't return. Would they even notice her absence? How long would it taken them to track her? How far could she get on her own?
Natasha would later learn that it had all been a test. The fear served as a deterrent. The restraints at night. The regimented lifestyle. It was all part of a design to test their resolve. They wanted to see which of the girls were followers and which ones were leaders. By daring to breakout, Natasha had shown potential. She could walk the line. Follower by day and leader by night. Of course, they couldn't have her getting ahead of herself. She could toe the line, but she needed to know that it could never be crossed.
"Come Natalia," they beckoned her forward in Russian, pulling her away from the other girls during their lessons. "We have a special task just for you."
They brought her inside a darkened room and placed a knife in her hands. It wasn't the first time she had ever handled one. On the contrary, she had grown to be quite good with one. It wasn't her favorite training tool, but she was more than proficient.
When the lights went up, she saw that she wasn't alone. There was another girl there as well. Natasha didn't know her very well, but she knew her name was Klavdiya and she was older than Natasha by a few years.
"Natalia. Klavdiya. Two of our brightest stars. Two with so much potential," a disembodied, mechanical like voice spoke to them in Russian. "You both have a thirst for freedom it would seem," it taunted. "We are not cruel people, little ones. We are strict because we care. And because we care, we will give you a taste of the freedom you so long for."
Natasha perked up at the news, but Klavdiya had a very different reaction. She looked stricken and tense. She clutched her hands together nervously and it was only at that point that Natasha noticed that the other girl wasn't armed.
"Everything has a price. Freedom is not truly free. Happiness must be earned. This, little ones, is your opportunity to prove that you are worthy of such kindness. All you have to do is…survive."
The instruction was so simple. Survive. All she had to do to be free was survive. Like escaping the facility, it seemed easy enough. Too easy. Natasha was younger and smaller and she had less training, but she had one thing in her favor. Her desire to get out was strong.
So with the promise of freedom in her mind, Natasha did as she was told. She fought until she was tired and breathless and her hands were stained red with blood. She survived, but the freedom she wanted came at a price. Klavdiya's life. It wouldn't be the last life she took, but it was the first.
The image of Klavdiya stuck with her for years. The way she seemed to give up mid-battle and allow Natasha to win. The tiny smile that formed on her lips just before she drew in her final breath. Klavdiya got her freedom and Natasha got to leave the Red Room, but true freedom would elude her for many years to come.