Destruction - The Oasis Project Book 2 (Complete)

One - Ira

Pitch black.

That was all there was for a very long time. I'd once read that the eye needed to capture light for the brain to register an image, but even with my condition, I saw nothing. It was what it was like in the beginning, deep in the Siberian forest. The abducted children were thrown in a shipping container and there was no way of knowing if time had passed, except for when we felt ourselves moving with the trucks.

There was not even movement this time. At first, I was relieved that my captors left me alone. There was no one checking on me, food was rarely delivered in total darkness, but there wasn't any torture like I'd expected, just a void. My cell was big, and I quickly grew to remember where the toilet and sink were, and every crack on the walls, every bump on the ground. It wasn't anything like the sterile labs under Dell Island.

As days turned into weeks and possibly months, I felt myself fading into the void. My memory started to dissolve, and I had to repeat everything I knew about the people I cared about out loud to myself to remember. One time I remembered smashing my fist against the rough wall and letting my blood run down my forearm because I couldn't recall Stuart's voice. I'd expected someone to rush in and patch me up, but nothing happened. I half-hoped that the wound would be infected so I could hear some human voices. It healed, and more memories slipped from my mind. Linkin's tattoos became a blur. The faces of my family members began to melt. My own voice became unfamiliar, and I doubted that I could even speak a language anymore.

Then came the voices. At first, they were what I thought to be birds chirping, which were such a relief that I'd laughed until I hiccupped uncontrollably. Then murmurs floated in the air, indistinct, pushing me out of my mind. I tried talking to them, but my croak terrified myself. I could barely sleep, and when I did pass out, exhausted, my dreams were unnatural, full of twisting trees of metal, gigantic birds with sharp teeth, and the sensation of being cut by shards of glass all over my body. The only way I could tell if I'd gotten sleep was finding my body whole after doubling over hyperventilating.

Remember.

"My name is Irina Vladimira Konstantinov." I faltered. It was Konstantinova once, but I never liked it.

There was snow falling on barren trees, as far as the eye could see. Blood on small hands.

"When I was nine years old, I was taken from my family by human traffickers."

What happened there? Remember.

Blood spurted out of a man's bearded neck. I was running. I always ran. Until there was a boat. Dirty streets, where tall buildings morphed into each other. Another boat. Sunshine on my face as I lay on the warm sand.

Remember.

A familiar blonde in the mirror, smiling at the eagle permanently inked on her shoulder. Eagle, you missed. Who'd said that? A gunshot. I wanted to laugh. There was no one to laugh with me.

Remember.

"I did not come here to die."

󠁌♟♙♟♙

"You are gifted. You are one of our best." Hearing the words, I scrambled up and unwound my arms from my head. Standing up made me feel giddy, so I sat back down. "You are important." Just when I thought that I'd imagined the soothingly feminine voice, it came back. Silence was left after each sentence. I was mesmerized by the lack of sound after hearing constant noise for as long as I could remember.

"Who are you?" I attempted to croak. The vowels and consonants were a little unfamiliar.

"You were chosen to change the world." The voice ignored my question. "You are invaluable. The world needs you."

The meaning of her words put the whirlwind of jumbled thoughts to rest, but what was this bullshit?

As if she heard my mental criticism, the woman stopped talking. I frowned in the darkness, trying to pick apart her utopian sales pitch. It made no sense.

Things made even less sense when the room was suddenly illuminated. I held my head and let out a hiss as a migraine hit. I didn't even know that there was a light in this cell. The door creaked open and I impulsively sprung up to maul whoever was entering. They pushed me back onto the dusty floor, which knocked the wind out of my lungs. I groaned. I was a skeleton, not anything like I was before.

"It's nice to see you again, Ira." A young blonde man towered over me. He had the audacity to smile. His hair grew down to his shoulders and he was wearing all black, which didn't suit him. I knew a name for him, but it flew from my reach just when I was about to grasp it.

I growled. The feeling wasn't mutual and I wanted to tell him to get fucked, but the words wouldn't come.

"Now, now, Ira." He pulled me into a sitting position despite my protests. "Don't be like this. We're old friends, remember?"

Desmond, I remembered. His name was Desmond. I shook my head.

"We're all old friends here," someone else said, but with a sarcastic venom that Desmond was missing. I forced my eyes to focus. There was a woman next to Desmond with dark brown skin and dark brown hair. Lines marked the sides of her neck, but they weren't injuries.

Desmond placed a hand on her arm. "Easy, Celestia. Ira is going to be a great person." He looked down at me and smiled his harmless surfer-dude smile. A memory flashed by of the same expression against full sunlight. "Aren't you, Ira?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have enough saliva to spit, either.

"Be careful with her," Celestia warned, her dark eyes boring holes through me. "I know Ira. She's even worse than she looks, Jaysen."