She is born in the rain and fire, her first cries sharp as a knife in the cutting silence. The world burns around them but nothing can hurt them as long as they are together. Mother, father, brother, and now a sister called Natalia, a family founded in secrets and lies to shield themselves from the new government. Even though her mother has changed her name still the nation hunts a missing princess.
The world burns around them but nothing can hurt them as long as they are together. When the bombs impede on their world, when her brother chokes to death on ashes, when the heat is so strong her father is permanently scarred, her mother throws her out a window to a passing officer and Ｓｈｅ'ｓ ａ Ｒｏｍａｎｏｆｆ， ｂｕｔ—！
Those are just the accounts she would later wrench out of witnesses, neighbors, friends. She is too little to remember but there's a scar on her thigh where a broken window cut her like a knife. Some nights she presses a thumbnail into it and imagines she can still smell the smoke.
She is six years old and wild like the brambles, her hair the color of blood on snow and her laugh a sharp birdlike call when Ivan teaches her how to hunt. She doesn't know that most little girls are afraid of blood because she's never met another little girl before, only grins like a proud huntress when Ivan dots the blood of her first kill on her cheeks and carries her home on broad shoulders. He lets her skin and gut the rabbit herself with a knife he then promises is hers to keep.
They are isolated together, she and Ivan, in their little cabin on the edge of the frozen world. Some days it feels like the coldness is a part of her, sinking into her bones like an old friend's embrace. But the embrace can't last forever.
When the army takes Ivan away he sends her to a place he thinks will be safe, a boarding school far away where she would never want for anything but would learn how to work for it as well.
It is there that she learns what it really means to kill, to hurt without remorse, to be unmade. She is six years old when they strip her of h͙͈̼̗̞̲e̻͔͖̺̹̘͉̭r̰̰̞̗̰̣̰ ̦̹̮̜͇ͅw̞̞i̤͚̣͓̮̝l̳͔̘̭̠͖̘̠d̙̱̹̳̬͉̬n͍̦̘̙̖̲͉̞ḙ̖̫̤͚̣̥̪͍s͔͕͇̙̪s͖̖̺̗, pull it out of her like gutting a rabbit on a bloody operating table, modify it into something a̐̋cͧͤ̀̊ͨc̊ͨeͪ̄pͣt̐̂̑ab̆̓̽ͧͩl̆̌̌ͣͣ͊e̎̿̏̿͛̿̚ and f̷̸i͞e̡r̡͘c͢͝e̕͟ and s͌̄̆ͪhͬ̎̑̀̎a̒̄rͧp̄ͮ̃͂̈́ ͪ̑̽̄a̾ͫͧͤsͯ̑͆̔ͪ̀̅ͭ ̉̉̃̏ä́̂ͧ̀ ̇ͭ̾̄̈́bͤ͐̎͋ͤ͌l͋̑aͤ̅͌̓̂̒͌̚dͫͨ̀̒́͗̌̔ͭeͤ͐ͬ͊, and put it back into her.
After the first operation she cries. Her scars hurt and she is six years old. They hit her. Tears are for children. She stops crying.
Ivan visits when he can, when the army allows it. Every time he looks more afraid, afraid of what the Department is doing, afraid of what she's becoming, afraid of her silence where laughter used to sit, of long straight hair that used to spring in curls, of poisonous green eyes that once were brown.
She is Natalia she is Natasha she is Nadia and Nastia and Nadine. They crack her head open, scoop it hollow, put something (someone) new inside and she can't even fight anymore. She is too used to the pain to know anything else.
Sometimes the real Natalia slips through the cracks. She hugs Ivan goodbye and whispers I͂͒̔̒̂ ̏ͥ̽dͪ̄̔o͛̓̀̂̚̚n̑͗͆̉̈̊̒'ͥ̿̌͗́̐͌t̿ͣͪ̔̿͒͒ ͂́̿̌ͫͫ͑k̏̋ͨ́̈̽͊n̊͛̑õͧ̓ͯͬ́̍̌w̾̅ͥ̊̏ͮ ̿͑̎̉̽͑̍͊̎w̉ͩ̅hͤ̚aͯ͑̿̋ͭ̎ͥt̉ͬ́'ͤ̈́͌̒̽s͂ͩͥͤ̈̍ͨͪ ͮ̊r͐́̈́ͦ̒e̓͊aͮͭ͑́̈́̂͐͒l̉̄ͫ̈́̐̑̚ ͆̎ͦͭͩ̈̆a̽̋ͨn̈́ͯͪyͦmͣ͑ͬ̔ͧ̿̊o͋̽̃͆ͦrͤ͒͌͐̇̒ͤẽ̿ into his ear. He tries to hold her tighter but she slips away like mist, already forgetting, a new girl shifting into position. Ivan's face falls. What a nice man.
They are taught not to love. L̫̗͇ͅͅͅo̻̖̙̞̯̪̩̤ͅv̰̱̯̦̜̤̣e͚̫̹̘͇ ̺̥ị̼̭̜m̫̟p̤̟͚̭̰͙ͅe͉͈̘̫d̪̳̮̟̠ͅe̳̥͈̝̫̱͖ͅṣ͈͕͉͔̘̺͕ͅ ͚̠̠̼̯̰̗͎e͍ͅf̥͓̗̠̞f̻̰̳͔̜i̯͖̦̙͈c̺͍i̘͍͍͓̭̘̳ͅe̫̼͚̝n͙̘̮̯͙̞͎c̦͎̗ͅy̠̠̻. And yet she is the only one with a father of sorts, someone to visit her and tell her what a wonderful woman she is growing into. She is sharp as a knife and holds him in her eyes until she sees that he is being honest. A crack forms. Some night she lies awake thinking of his kindness and the crack yawns wider. She misses him.
She is sharp as a knife and she understands emotions when they belong to other people. The head tilts to the side when someone's curiosity is peaked.
P̡̘̀u̖̞̝͓̕͜p̢̤̥̱̥̳̬̳͈i͚̜̕͡l̡͕̭̜̜̹̘s̯̀͟ ̧̱̹̫̪̳̜d̩̥̳̝͔̘̹i̴̛̛̼̫l̡͈͓̣̱͓̀a̠̫͕͉̭̮t̝̮̼̩̟̕ͅe̢͕̻͇̹̞͚͟͜ when they're a͡fra҉id͝/ąr͏o͟u̶şe̵d/f́rust͝ra̴ted͠/d͜ìs̸g͡us̀ted̢ and they s̢̜̠͟w̧̥̯̝e̞̻̯̮a̳͔̘̤̩t͖̤̝̟͖͖̞̰ when they're n̴҉e̸͞r̛̛̕v͘o͝ù͘s̶̀.
The eyebrows dͭͧͩ̇̊̌͐͋ͬrͯ̎aͨw̆́͊̃ ̈́ȕͭͭ̅̏ͥ̏͐p̂̾̎͌ in sadness, d̴͉͓ò̸͕̺̮w̢̺̳̣̮͔n͙̫̰͙̤̟͎̕͠ͅ in anger.
Then ｓｈｅ ｍｅｅｔｓ ａ ｂｏｙ on a mission, and her head tilts to the side when he smiles, and her pupils dilate because she is frustrated by the reaction she didn't initiate/afraid of what this means/disgusted by the thought of wanting him/w̒ͥͯ̂͒͑͑͛̉ͮ̓ā̓ͮ̏̽̌̏ͬͥ͐n͗͑̂̎̊̓ͯͭ͛̍̍ͪt̒ͦͣ̉ͯ͌̎̿ͮ͂͆̇ͯ̄i̓̔͑̊̓̊nͣ̽̾̔ͤ̅̚̚g͒͌̔ͯͪͧ͑̈́̽̈ͧ̽̿̚ ͫ̽͗̆͐́ͣ̓h͋ͥ̑ͮͣ̈́͂͆͛̿͛ͣ̆̐ͦ̚̚i̾̎̊ͨ̍̀͑̓͊͌̑ͩm̾̇͗͊̔.̀̅ͨͭ̅̚
She hasn't wanted something since her first operation.
The moment she knows she wants him she is consumed. There is a fire in her heart that won't be extinguished until she has him, and then she has him and the fire roars like the one that killed her mother/father/brother. This fire is what kills and yet also makes a family of their foolish games.
A plane falls from the sky and her twenty-year-old husband is dead. She is sixteen winters old when she feels a kick in her belly, kept hidden by the layers she wears in the trenches. No one knows. Even more than her need, Natalia wants. She wants the baby growing inside of her, she wants to hold on to the fire a dead man left burning in her ribs. Or maybe that's the fever; it's been raining for days.
They send her ahead to the next village as scout, because she knows all the dark and secret paths to make herself unseen. She knows how to unmake herself in the night time and come together again come sunrise. It should have taken a day, maybe two tops, but she finds a family living all alone in the abandoned village and her pains start halfway there.
She reminds herself that she is stronger than this, that her body is superior to all others and will obey her. Barks orders at the family to follow her if they want to live. They think she's leading them into the woods to kill them, and she thinks she's leading them into the woods to kill them, but she collapses in the snow instead and blood blooms between her legs.
A gust of wind howls in in all the empty spaces in her chest as they bury her beautiful, dead baby with the frozen wild roses.
Ｔｈｅ ｃｒａｃｋｓ ａｒｅ ｓｔｉｌl ｂｌｅｅｄｉｎｇ.