The escapee - Marvel

Chapter 64 - The older widows

TW:  sexual assault - Please look after yourself and do not read if you might be affected, I am happy to provide a summary for anyone who needs it.

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The first thing Seven thought when she woke was that she must be in hell. She came to the conclusion that she must have died and have woken up in hell.

The irony was that she wasn't dead, but she was definitely in hell. In fact she would much rather be dead than be here because whatever hell had in store for her could not be worse than this

Her head was pounding and her vision was foggy. She blinked to adjust to the fluorescent lighting and her leg was aching so bad she thought she might pass out. When she finally opened her eyes fully she looked down to find the source of her pain, cringing at the sight of a gun shot wound.

Seven tried frantically to figure out why she had a bullet lodged in her thigh but it was as if her mind had been wiped blank, and there was nothing. She took a few deep breaths before trying again.

Then she remembered everything and her injury was immediately forgotten as she searched for Peter frantically with her eyes.

"Don't bother." A grainy voice called out and she snapped her head around, pain intensifying. How long had she been out?

"Where is he?" She replied, careful with the amount of malice in her tone, she didn't want to provoke him.

"Long gone" The figure stepped into the light and Seven almost rolled her eyes at the sight of Ivan. He was becoming predictable.

Seven felt hope swell in her chest. He had escaped. Maybe she hadn't, maybe she was stuck here forever, but her best friend had escaped and that was something.

As if he saw the light in her expression he moved to crush it like a flame beneath his fingertips. "He was shot outside the front." Seven deflated.

Ivan thrived under her misery. "He didn't die though, he's a tough little cockroach."

Seven glanced up again, careful with her facial expressions. She was about to develop whiplash from what Ivan was putting her though.

"But it's what? Three and a half hours to the next town over" he walked around the room, making a show of spelling it out as if he was only just realising it all himself. "And that's just driving"

Seven's head drooped and Ivan revelled. "Goodness me. Twenty hours walking? Gun shot wounds? Freezing cold Russian winter?" He tutted, "Not looking good, is it?"

She plotted it out in her head and agreed it was looking dire. "Not to mention the fact that he had the little one tagging along. Plus, he was weighed down with your corpse so that must've slowed them a little." He grinned as he looked her in the eyes, "sounds like hypothermia to me"

Seven couldn't process what was happening? Her corpse? Her brain was short circuiting.

"What do you mean? My corpse?"  She prayed that he'd answer and not just leave her with no answers. Luckily his arrogance won against his desire to remain mysterious.

"Didn't you hear? The little widow was shot and killed outside the facility, she was trying to defect. Luckily the traitor was shot down before she could go too far." Seven bristled at the words.

"I'm not dead." She stated, matter of factly.

"We couldn't kill off our best asset." Ivan admitted, "that's why we shot you with a tranquilliser gun and replaced your body with a fake, one that bleeds red just like you." He took his opportunity to punch her right below her cheekbone.