Oh gosh, guys! I'm so sorry! My updates have been taking forever recently, and my procrastination is to blame. Plus, I've been recently getting so many ideas for drawings that I totally abandon my writing and draw instead. I feel horrible for that. Well, rest assured, I'm not dead (although band camp nearly killed me XD), and FINALLY got this chapter up! Sorry for the long wait, everyone! But thank you if you're still watching this story and haven't given up on it yet, I really appreciate that! :3

In other news, Marching Band Season has started, which means a ton of practices during the week for me, so sadly, my updates will be slower with less time on my hands. Thankfully, however, I've been given a study hall, which will allow me to get lots of writing done for you guys!

Spending so much time under the watchful eye of the cops was undoubtedly the most boring thing I had ever experienced. They wouldn't let me go out without an escort and I couldn't go about my normal business. I hated being watched like a hawk. It was even more boring than before I had begun training in Hydra. Well, at least the food was a whole lot better. The cops here made sure I would eat healthy, as they had recently done a check on my physical health and found me to be severely malnourished. So far, I had been following a very healthy diet in order to restore that which I had been deprived of back in Hydra. Today, I have been informed that I will have a different checkup and had been told to wait until one of the officers came to fetch me.

While waiting, I was staring at a simple children's picture book and was silently scoffing at the impossible idea of how inexplicably happy one little turtle could be when I heard the door open. The officer who Steve and I had dealt with, who I now knew was named Alexander Vazov, entered the room. "The psychiatrist is here to see you," he said softly.

I nodded and stood up. It was time for the checkup. Yesterday, they had finished up the last of the physical checkups, which involved my diet, my strength, and any wounds I had. I had to get several infected wounds treated, and when prompted about the scar on my back, I said nothing. They have fixed me physically, and now they must fix me mentally. But how can they fix what has never been right? "What will he do to me, Mr. Vazov?" I asked quietly.

He responded softly, "Dr. Gorev is simply going to ask you a few simple questions."

"And that is supposed to help figure out what's wrong with my head?" I asked in disbelief.

Mr. Vazov chuckled softly and smiled, "Ah, you'd be surprised how simple responses can help people understand each other. Are you ready to go see him?"

I sighed, "I don't really have a choice, so fine. Let's go."

He nodded and led me to a small room with two comfy looking chairs. One chair was empty, and seated in the other was an elderly man with white hair, rosy cheeks, and eyes almost as gentle as Steve's. "You must be the patient," the man said, "Please, have a seat."

I nodded and hesitantly took the empty chair across from him, "So . . . you're Dr. Gorev?"

The elderly man nodded, "I am."

"You're supposed to fix my head?"

He chuckled softly, "Oh, we don't have to fix anything! We are simply going to find the underlying problems that prevent you from finding happiness." Dr. Gorev turned to Mr. Vazov, "If you don't mind, it is best that the patient and I are the only ones in this room, so that she isn't uncomfortable when talking."

Mr. Vazov nodded and exited the room.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, a bit more relaxed now that the officer was gone. I never did like figures of authority.

Dr. Gorev turned back to me, "So, what is your name, child?" he asked softly.

I shook my head, "Don't have one." Just because I'd have to tell him about my problems didn't mean that I could slip up on my lies. There was no way in hell that I would tell him about my life in Hydra. I'd have to fabricate it in another story.

"That's unfortunate," he said, "Anyway, I am going to say a few words, and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear them, okay?"

I nodded.

"All right then, let's begin," he said, "Family."

"Ruin."

He paused for a moment, surprised at my answer before continuing, "Sky."

"Freedom."

"Home."

"Gone."

"Father."

"Evil."

"Mother."

"Dead."

He leaned back into his chair and thought for a bit, "I think I know what the problem is. You had a traumatizing experience with your family, and so you don't know who to trust, correct?"

I nodded, somewhat surprised at how close his guess was.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

I thought for a moment before responding, "My . . . father . . . was a heavy abuser. He'd beat me until I was bruised very badly and cut in a few places. And, one time, when I had finally stood up to him, he hurt mother, and she . . . she," at this point, tears had started falling down my face as I had remembered what had happened to Anya, "she never got better. . ."

Dr. Gorev nodded and looked at me sympathetically, "I understand. Are you able to tell me a bit about your family?"

I nodded and took a deep breath, "Father was the head of an organization, and mother was a nurse. My father didn't want to name me and got mad at mother for wanting to because he said I didn't deserve a name."

"That explains your slight discomfort around the officer," he said softly, "Did your mother care about you?"

I stared at him for a few seconds. He had noticed my discomfort around Mr. Vazov? That was kind of surprising, but oh well. I nodded and finally responded, "Yeah . . . but she was too afraid of Father to show it."

"And as soon as she was gone, you ran away?"

"Yeah."

"And Steve, the man who wants to adopt you, why do you trust him?"

I thought about this for a moment, unsure myself why I trusted him so much before it hit me. I knew why I trusted him, he reminded me of Anya, "He's kind like Mother, and since I can't keep living on the streets, I want to be with someone kind. I . . . I don't want to go back to my father," I said worriedly, my voice cracking a bit, "Please, please, please don't take me back to him!" The sheer thought of what the Headmaster would do to me if I returned to Hydra made me break down crying again.

"Don't worry, child," Dr. Gorev said gently, "They won't take you back to him." He looked me in the eyes, "Are you going to be okay on your own for a bit? I need to speak with Officer Vazov."

I nodded and whipped away my tears, hiccupping a bit, "Y-Yeah. . ."

He nodded, "Okay, wait here." He stood up and exited the room.

As soon as he had left, I looked up and smirked slightly. He had believed every single word. "Mischa, you've outdone yourself," I said softly. Perhaps I shouldn't have lied, but it was better for everyone if, from now on, no one knew about my past. Besides, it wasn't a complete lie. I was right about the Headmaster killing the only person I considered a mother. He did abuse me, and technically he was my father for being the man behind my creation. I took a bit of comfort in the fact that I didn't totally lie to the doctor. I stood up and headed to the door, pressing my ear against it to listen in on the conversation. I couldn't wait patiently enough to find out what happened.

". . . So, what's the diagnosis, doc?" I heard Mr. Vazov say.

"She seems to have no sign of any mental illness and is simply a traumatized little girl," replied the voice of Dr. Gorev.

"So you're saying. . . ?"

"She seems to be fit enough to be put up for adoption. In fact, I wholeheartedly recommend it, as it may be her only way to get over her trauma."

"Very well. I shall inform Mr. Rogers immediately."

"I'll fetch the girl then."

At this point, I quietly rushed back to my chair, masking the smile that threatened to creep onto my face. Finally! I would be able to get away from this place now! I would finally be able to start fresh and forget about my life in Hydra. I'd have a whole new identity. Things finally seemed to be looking up for me!