She looks into the mirror.
Her hair was shorter now. Or was it longer? The same length, maybe? She didn't know, it seemed it was changing far too often for it to really have a default look. It was long when she first came here, then there was the incident that burnt off half of it, then that one liquid that seemed to make it grow a hundred times faster... Whatever the length, however, the color was always the same. A strawberry blonde color, brown highlights so light you could hardly see them. And no matter the style, she never seemed to be able to grow out her bangs beyond the annoyingly short length, just long enough to get into her eyes at times.
Her skin was pale, which surprised her, kind of. Sure, she didn't get out much, and sure, she was locked in a concrete prison most days of her life, but she almost looked... paler than when she had first arrived. Was that possible?
She lifted a hand – thin and wiry – to poke at her cheeks. She wasn't unhealthily skinny, she knew. If she was, the doctors here would have a fit and demand she eat more. However, she just skirted the boundaries of a healthy weight for a girl her height and age. Couple that with her pale skin, and she looked almost dead.
No, that was too dramatic. She told herself that she looked fine.
She brushed a hand across her annoying bangs, momentarily brushing them out of the way of her eyesight. She blinked, and the reflection copied. She stared into her own eyes – blue, but not any shade she could name off the top of her head. It wasn't an ocean blue, or a sky blue, or a baby blue. It was just... a blue. They seemed so much darker these days, like they were missing the spark that any teenager's eyes should hold.
A lot of the people here had eyes like that. She was afraid she was becoming like them.
She lowers her hands, brushing out the imaginary wrinkles in her outfit. Loose fitting pajama pants with strings to tighten them around the waist, and a dark grey t-shirt. The same outfit she's been wearing for the past nine years, since the downfall of her team. The death of her friends.
They were making her join another team soon enough.
She promised herself she would deny them that. She promised herself she would never allow them to use her like a tool again, not like they had when she was much younger. When she had been an innocent child. She told herself she couldn't go through that mess again. She couldn't get close to people only to lose them all in a place like this, surrounded by people she didn't know if she could trust. She didn't even know if most of these people were people. Monsters in human skin.
But what could she do? Tell them no? They make it seem as if she could, they tell her that she has the choice to decline, but she knows them well enough to know the truth. She could do as she was asked, or suffer the consequences.
She'd already killed for them.
She looks back up, at the reflective glass.
She looks into the mirror, and hates who she has become.