☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

n i n e

~ 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 ~

Amara stared at the wall in front of her, her body rigid and tight in an attempt to stop herself from shaking. Her hands clutched the armrests of the chair she was strapped to, but her vision was going in and out of focus while the screams of Peter were off in the distance.

They paused for a second, leaving Peter to heave for breath while a bit of talking went on, and she flinched when they began again. Her fingernails were scratching at the binds around her wrists, despite the bleeding beneath her nail.

She paid no attention to the guards standing around the room, but when the metal barred door behind her screeched open, she stiffened.

"Well, well, sunshine," Graeme chuckled, dragging Peter into view and throwing him onto his table.

He looked terrible. His arms were dripping blood from the dozen of gashes spread across them, and he didn't even have a shirt on, so she caught only a glimpse of slashes across his back before he moved to the front, which was oozing just as much of the dark red liquid as the back.

She gulped, clutching onto the chair tighter. His breathing almost sounded like it hurt and his face was so painted in red she could barely make out any of the details, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

Graeme grabbed her chin and pushed it up, forcing her to look at him.

"It's your turn," he chuckled.

She knew that she shook her head, not because she felt it, but because Graeme's grin widened.

"That's right," he said, "it's your turn to pay the doc a visit."

The guards stepped forward to strap Peter down to the table before they moved on to loosen hers, but before she could get up, Graeme wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed. Her eyes widened and her hands reached up to try getting his grip loose, but the most she could do was follow his movements, since he forced her to stand up and pushed her towards the second part of the lab.

Graeme chuckled again, squeezing his hands seemingly for fun while she struggled to breathe.

"You're gonna listen to the doc, now," he ordered, pushing her up against the wall so aggressively, she assumed the back of her head would have blood on it.

She couldn't raise her hand to feel it, though, because a large pair of metal cuffs were linked to her wrists, and the chain wasn't long.

"You don't wanna end up like your boyfriend, do you?" he asked, squishing her cheeks. "Wouldn't shut up at all - is he always that frustratin' to work with?"

Amara didn't say anything, but that was a big mistake, since Graeme forced her face up to his so they were only centimeters apart.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you, sunshine," he warned, his voice going dark. His breath reeked of rotten eggs. "Or that pretty face of yours isn't ever gonna go back to normal."

She continued to stare at him, her mouth shut and her body still.

"Doesn't matter," Graeme sighed, shrugging his arms. "He just makes my job much more enjoyable. You should try doin' the same some time. Test me. See what kind of beatin' it gets you, and then-"

"That's enough, Graeme," a deep voice chuckled, and Amara turned her head, watching as Kiselyov entered the room and grabbed a pair of blue medical gloves from the box.

Graeme grinned, placing a hand on the rifle wrapped around his chest and stepping back while Kiselyov walked up to her, his own hands grabbing her chin to could look at her face. His hands were surprisingly gentle, but that didn't make her opinion of him change one bit.