Teaser
2014, 24 months ago
I was only 2 when the bomb hit. When I lost everything and everyone. When I last called a place home. When I was Normal. When I wasn't a monster. When I could see life and all its joy.
Before all this I was happy, I mean I was 2 but I was happy. I had a family. I was normal. I didn't have wings. I couldn't hear the dead. I couldn't do any of it.
I was drawn out of my thoughts by the sound of a baton hitting the bars that lay in front of me, each one met by a step, a sound that brought fear into my heart, a step that brought him closer to me. Him, my new capture, the one in charge here or at least of my section of the base, Agent Rumlow. My heart was beating sporadically, I don't know if it was the nerves or the latest chemical being sent through my veins by the experimentation and torture I was put through by the people who adopted me at the age of 2.
That was eight years ago, the day they adopted me. I was the only one of my family containing 5 people to survive the bomb they tell me. But I don't believe it, I feel Wanda and Pietro's energy. They're out there. But they're barely surviving.
2015, 14 months ago
Left, right, left, right, left, right. I kept this rhythm as my bandaged hands hit the weighted bag forcing it to move forward and backward like a pendulum inside a grandfather clock. When I finally stopped I wanted to collapse in a heap. But I knew better I know had to beat Katrina. If I didn't I would be punished. And I couldn't bear to feel the liquid fire burn through my veins again, not now, no now I know Wanda is alive. Pietro isn't but I still feel him sometimes, it's like he's watching over me, being an overprotective older brother.
I stood opposite Katrina on the mat, fists formed by my side ready to defend myself, knowing that the defensive is better than being on the attack. It was my best shot. At surviving. At not being forced down onto the chair, strapped down, the cold metal against my back. All I had to do was win.
Katrina made the first move. then the second, and third all I did was block till she ran out of part of her energy. I then placed on hit to her right ribcage, one to her neck and swept my leg behind hers knocking her over. My final blow was to her nose, I heard it click, I saw her eyes flutter shut. That was it. That was the moment I knew I had one, the moment that meant I wouldn't be put through experimentation again. Not for now.
Hopefully not ever.
I was wrong to hope.
I always am.
2016, Now
Now.
Now I am more than just different, I am a monster of my own making. I demon who looks like an angel. I long to disappear, to hide away. But I can't. They won't let me. They won't let me be 12, I have to be a machine. A monster.