Haunted

2 | regret like acid

"You and the other members of your unit who were taken will need to be retrained over the next couple of months," the woman told Seventeen, standing from her seat. "Come, I'll show you the compound and where you'll be living."

Seventeen nodded, her head still swimming with all that she'd learned. She'd been told that everything would be explained to her, but she still had so many questions. The woman had asked how old she was but hadn't offered an answer when Seventeen had been unable to say. And that was just one of so many examples.

Maybe in time, things would become clearer. She could only hope. The misery was already starting to chew away at her.

She followed the woman out of the interrogation room and down a marble floored hallway, crystal chandeliers dangling from the high ceiling. Ornately framed portraits lined the walls, and she caught their distasteful stares, shying away from their gazes after one spat at her. The woman, walking just ahead, didn't seem to notice.

The hallway opened into a large entryway where a wide set of stairs waited, their steps covered in plush emerald-green carpeting. Seventeen tried to hide her shock. This was a military compound? It looked more like an expensive hotel.

The woman gestured to the right and Seventeen shifted her attention to a pair of open doors. "This is the dining room," she said, and Seventeen peered through the doorway to see four long tables stretching across the expansive room. They were already complete with dishes, silverware, and green cloth napkins, and the seats were upholstered in that same green fabric. Death Eaters must like the color green.

The woman turned and wordlessly began ascending the grand staircase, not checking to see if Seventeen was following. After a final look at the dining room, she jogged to catch up with the woman. More portraits lined the walls of the staircase and she tried not to notice their cruel faces, shriveled up in disgust as she passed. Maybe they were like that to everyone.

They walked up two flights of the staircase, and Seventeen struggled to keep up with the woman's long-legged strides. By the time they reached what she assumed was the third floor of the building, Seventeen was panting and trying to hide her gulps of air. The woman didn't pause at the landing; just turned right and continued her path.

She finally came to a halt in front of a door, and pushed it open. Inside was a modest bedroom. A bed, a small table beside it, and an armoire. It was bland, devoid of any decorations, the bed fitted with a simple white spread and no throw pillows. Compared to the uncontrolled opulence of the rest of the compound, she was nearly surprised to see such a wan room. But perhaps the decadence was meant only for the grand halls and not for small bedrooms befit for soldiers.

"This is your room," the woman offered, opening the door further. Seventeen took a careful step inside. "You'll find training clothes in the dresser. Everything should fit." Seventeen's jaw tightened at the thought. Were these her clothes from before her captivity? Would they bring back even a hint of her memories? Curiously, she walked to the armoire and tugged open the door. The disappointment hit her before she even knew why. Because in her gut, she knew that these had not been her clothes. There was no reason to assume it, but she just knew.

She ran a hand along the black fabrics, finding them almost silky beneath her fingertips. They were some wicking material, and Seventeen could guess that they had a fair amount of protection spells cast upon them from how she could feel the magic thrum into her skin. The thought popped her into her head suddenly. "I have a wand, don't I?"

She turned to find the woman watching her from the doorway. Her expression was guarded, and Seventeen abruptly wondered if perhaps she had known this woman before. They couldn't have been friends, not with how even her behavior had been. Could they have been enemies? Was that coldness lying beneath her careful eyes a well-practiced hatred?