I Am Mustafin

| 4 | - Alaki Bea X

It hurts...

A very audible groan emits from the back of my throat, and I breathe in sharply as my eyes flicker open. The bright light that burns my eyes nearly forces them shut, my eyebrows furrowing.

White.

All I see is white, and for a moment, it's beautiful—like purity, it's warm and embracing. But it's only for a moment, because in the next, my vision clears and I feel the intense ache shooting through my body. However, it is not the ache of the bruises well-made on my sides and belly that make me cry out, it is the burn on my chest that inflicts agony like nothing else.

Unlike before I fell into my unconscious state, my body listens to me when I demand to sit up. I have to strain my back and muscles, the cracking of my joints meeting my ears as I bow my head. Dry blood, blisters, and the bright pink color of my flesh make me hiss, my sight falling on the well imprinted "X" burned over my heart.

This isn't real...

I bring my trembling hand up to my chest and the instant the tip of my middle finger graces the edge of my wound, a searing sting shoots to its roots and I wail out in pain. My voice quavers, and tears break from my eyes, scalding my cheeks as they roll down my face and gather at my chin.

Throbbing.

A hard and numbing pulse follows the painful sting and I try my hardest not to allow so much as the strap of my bra to touch my chest. My stomach turns, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as a knot forms at the edge of my throat.

When I lift my head up, my eyes snap straight up to the glass wall in front of me. Slowly, I turn to my sides, seeing my reflection on the mirrored walls beside me. Beneath me, I sit on the hard white tiles, and when I turn my head to look behind me, I see the only wall that matches the solid color of the floor.

Fear drills holes into my heart, but it never overpowers the anger coursing in my veins when I catch sight of a man dressed in black attire standing on the other side of the glass wall. He holds a hard look on his features while his ocean blue irises eye me.

He stands there for a long while, studying me like I'm an the exotic animal at the zoo. From the blond hair on his head to the combat boots concealing his feet, I can tell he is more than likely a high ranking member of the Talos' military system.

If information is the reason why they didn't shoot me on the spot, they're in for a hell of a disappointment.

I flinch when a portion of the glass wall suddenly slides to a side and the man emerges into the room. His arrogance radiates off of him like the heat from the sun on a summer afternoon. With his hands behind his back, the heels of his boots click beneath him as he approaches me with his chin held high.

His movements cease when he's a foot short from me, the door slides shut behind me as he looks down at me with hooded eyes and stoic features. Unlike myself, he doesn't seem fazed in the slightest and I am taken aback when he suddenly lowers on one knee and his gaze falls on the "X" burnt on my chest.

"That must be painful," he says as he reaches his hand out toward my wound.

I don't hesitate, turning my body to the side to block him from so much as laying a finger on me. My eyebrows furrow at him, my eyes narrowing on him as a chuckle emits from the back of his throat.

He tsks and admits, "It's not everyday that we come across beings like yourself."

"Beings like myself?" I muse.

"Half-bloods," he adds. "It's quite fascinating."

His long and hard stare hovers over me like he's superior to me, his eyes searching me carefully before he says, "You almost have the features of a Diallo, your skin almost matches the shade of a Santos, your color of your eyes match my own, yet only part of my blood runs in your."