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RECLUSE
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IRINA HATED HAWKINS. She was an outcast and she hated it. But however much she did, anything was better than where she was before. There was always a special place in her heart to store the hatred she had for her old 'home'. It wasn't much of a home. More of a prison. Let me explain...

Irina Kozlova was born in Russia, but was snatched from her parents while she was borderline still a toddler. She was kidnapped by a secret Russian lab where she was raised and trained to be an assassin and a spy. Known as 'Experiment X' her life was hard labour. Vigorous training. Strenuous tasks. However, when she was 17, one of the lab workers, Svetlana Guseva, helped her escape. They had to cut the tracker out of Irina's neck so she couldn't be traced. It was successful, with them managing to get all the way to the USA. Indiana, to be exact.

And that's how she ended up in Hawkins. Anything was better than the lab, but she still hated Hawkins. Living there with Svetlana wasn't the problem. School was. She hated school. No one wanted to be friends with the new girl that didn't dress how everyone else did and had a 'funny' accent. Irina could only name very few people who were actually nice to her - Barbara Holland was nice to her before she went missing, Jonathan Byers was polite, Nancy Wheeler would speak to her in chemistry but never anywhere else, and... that's about it. Oh, her neighbour, Dustin, and his friends would speak to her. Quite often actually. The only issue with that was that they were all like 14 years old. That didn't exactly do her reputation any good in the terms of gaining popularity with people her own age, but Irina didn't really care if she was being totally honest. She was the girl that no one gave a damn about.

Any who, Irina pushed the stop button on her alarm clock and let out a very audible groan, practically rolling out of bed. She slumped in front of her mirror and brushed her teeth, then proceeded to do her makeup, which consisted of mascara, a little eyeliner, and lip balm. Make up was still a pretty new concept to her, so she quite liked experimenting with it.

She threw on her jeans and zip-up hoodie, which both hung rather loosely on her small frame, and slipped on her white sneakers. She always wore long sleeves. It was to cover the barcode tattoo on the inside of her wrist that the lab had branded her with.

"Доброе утро, Светлана (Morning, Svetlana)." She muttered and swiped a breakfast bar from the counter top.

"Доброе утро, Ирина. Я делаю тост. Хочешь ломтик? (Good morning, Irina. I'm making toast. Do you want a slice?)" Svetlana asked. She was like a stand-in mother for Irina. That's what people knew her as - Irina's mother. But, of course, that's not biologically true.

"Нет, мне нужно идти в школу (No, I have to go to school)." Irina politely declined and slung her bag over her shoulder before taking off through the front door. She always stopped off at the general store on the way to school to pick herself something for lunch. She never did really know what to make herself. After all, cooking wasn't a prioritised thing to learn in the Russian lab.

𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥 || 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟Where stories live. Discover now