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Her head is hung low as she continues to walk with me.

"There you are," Miles greets us, his white lab coat, and his manufactured smile on. "I've already prepared the specimens, and I'll randomly select one for each." He flutters his fingers over a couple of syringes as if he's debating which one to choose first.

"So?" He turns, arching a brow, the syringe with the venom in his hand. "Who goes first?"

I give Vanya a small push, my eyes on her as I try to tell her with my expression that this is her chance to show Miles she's improving.

Her lashes flutter as she blinks rapidly, her eyes on me as if she's seeking my opinion.

I just give her a quick nod, pushing her slightly toward Miles.

"Little Vanya," he exclaims, "wonderful."

She's quickly placed on the reclining bed, her arm, already riddled with needle marks, stretched out and waiting for the shot.

Her eyes are set on me, her gaze blank.

No, that's not right. Her gaze is filled with something, yet I have a hard time understanding what it is. Her eyes are down-turned, but clear. It's not happiness, nor is it sadness. It's…

I don't know.

I can differentiate a few expressions, and I've taught myself what to look for in happiness and in sadness. But her expression? It's neither.

I frown as I continue to watch Miles inject the venom into her skin.

She squeezes her eyes shut at the invasion, the place of injection already swollen and red.

"Aren't you curious how this will go?" Miles asks me as he prompts Vanya to hop off the chair for me to take her place.

"I know it will go well," I reply confidently as I take a seat, folding my sleeve and presenting him with my mangled arm.

For all the needle marks that Vanya has on her skin, her arm looks pristine when compared to mine.

Long, jagged scars run all along the length of my forearm and go well into my upper arm. The result of surgery on top of surgery, of having my arm opened up to test my pain or to study its anatomical structure, I'd endured everything.

Even now, Miles has a hard time finding a vein to inject me into, the scar tissue prominent and gnarly. He purses his lips as he turns my arm around until he finds a good site to dump the venom into my skin.

"You each have a different venom. We'll see how you react to it." He smirks.

Vanya looks between the two of us, a sigh escaping her when she realizes we've started talking about the merits of the experiment and what the next stage is if it's successful.

And as we go back to our sleeping quarters she doesn't even bother to talk to me anymore.

After that, it only gets worse. She no longer asks me to help her or spare her, coming with me to every appointment and getting injected with the venom as expected. She doesn't even complain about the pain, or the swollen skin.

In fact, she just doesn't interact with me at all.

In the beginning I'm ecstatic, thinking that she's finally come around and that she's accepted why we are here and our importance in the grand scheme of things.

But more time passes and I can't help but note that for all her quiet demeanor, there is something strange about her.

I can't put my finger on it. But something is niggling in my mind.

Something isn't right.

And it only dawns on me when she starts feeling off, her pale skin changing color, more bruised and swollen than usual. She's barely moving, sleeping in all her spare time.

When I bring up the issue to Miles, he tells me that it's probably the venom slowly working on her body. While I'd reluctantly nodded at his explanation, I still can't help but feel that something isn't right.