She watched her mother enter the room, eyes immediately finding the marks on her face but the second she blinked they had shifted.
“What did they do to you?” Tatiana scoffed and pulled her face into a mocking pout. She held up her hands. They were handcuffed together in a way that trapped her to the table in front of her. Nikita raised her eyebrows and pulled out the chair she was resting her feet on. The younger rolled her eyes and stretched her arms out on the metal table.
“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
The only response she got was a humming noise, a noise she joined in on.
“Are you going to cooperate?” She nodded and hoped the so-called interrogation wouldn’t continue with only yes or no questions.
“Who hurt you?”
Tatiana hesitated. She had watched the videos, remembered the exact words of her mother when asked the same thing. ‘Who didn’t?’ It was what she had said and it was what her daughter now wanted to say too.
“I did.”
She was used to shocked and confused looks when she deliberately uttered the unexpected, to people being taken back, even impatient and angry but neutral? Patently waiting for more? Never before.
“People go easier on you when you’re vulnerable.” She was losing her cool. Answering unasked questions wasn’t like her and the fact that this woman was able to make her do it transformed her usual metal wall into one of glass.
She received an almost bored look.
“You’re left handed, it’s the wrong angle. You couldn’t have done that to yourself.”
This hadn’t been brought up on the videos.
“Their training is extensive.”
“You wouldn’t have learnt to shoot with your non-dominant hand by the time you were pulled out.”
Her metal wall turned glass now had rocks being thrown at it. One by one.
“You watched the tapes.” Bored, calm expression. One she made a bad attempt at replicated. “You know about the accident, you know the extra training an incident like that gives you.”
“What extra training?”
“You want everyone in here to learn about it?” she damn near whispered, struggling to believe the question asked.
“Yes.”
No. No no no. She reached for her head but the cuffs stopped her. Nikita couldn’t force her to say that.
“Who hurt you?”
“Olive.” The name fell out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“Second name.”
“Annalise.”
“Last names.”
“Wilder, Whitaker.”
Another nod. Could she really take another?
“Two more hours.”