A Progress

A smirk slowly curved on Natalie's lips as she looked at the person in front of her. Only a layer of glass separated them. "You don't look so good," she said, eyeing Anastasia's pale face.

Anastasia responded with a thin, pursed smile. "How's life inside?" she asked, her voice shaky and barely audible.

Hearing her weak voice, Natalie crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Oh, what's this? Did you lose your voice? Did I play with you too hard?" She snickered, her tone mocking.

"Do you… call trying to kill someone 'playing'?" Anastasia frowned, her words coming out strained. She struggled to speak, her voice feeling foreign and uncooperative. The doctor had suggested that her difficulty might be due to the trauma she had endured during the incident.

"Well... since you survived, it is playing, isn't it?" Natalie giggled, covering her mouth like it was some inside joke only she understood.