Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Welcome to my new story. I couldn't help myself, I just love Steve Rogers, so this story will be bringing me so much joy. I hope you give it a chance and tell me what you think. Here's a few important things before the story starts:
1. Disclaimer (and I'm only going to do this once): I don't own Captain America, the Avengers, Marvel Universe, or any familiar material that you recognize. All my OC's, original dialogue and plots I do own.
2. This story is set before the Avengers film (around a few months after Steve was found) and I plan to continue on to follow the events of the said movie. I will change some things from the film to fit my story but nothing too drastic.
3. Although this story is rated T (for now, maybe I'll change it in the future), this chapter has some minor graphic description (blood, torture). Also, the chapter is going to be short. I promise the others will be longer and won't be as graphic as this one.
4. Finally, this chapter was inspired by the song Shake It Out by Florence and the Machine.
That's all I have to say. Enjoy!
Prologue: Darkest Before Dawn
She never cried.
Even when they would peel her skin off slowly. Or hit her face with a blunt object. Or when she could feel her lungs freeze of the lack of oxygen, gasping in the cold water. Or when she would see her blood dripping down her body. She would push down her pain and bite her lower lip harshly, to keep herself quiet and stared ahead, her small way of defiance. It wasn't until she was alone in her cell, her safe haven, she would allow herself to show how much pain she was. And then would try to calm herself enough when they would come back and repeat the process.
She wasn't sure how long she had been in the suffocating room―or more accurately cell. A day. A week. A month. Or even a year. She can't recall the last time she had been taken out. The last time she had been dragged by these figures who shoved her into this cell. She remembered them murmuring to themselves, talking about her. They thought she didn't understand them but she did. Every word they said, she understood. A part of her wish didn't because of what she heard petrified her.
They were wondering if it was worth it. All the pain and torture they were putting her would be worth it. One of them said they should just kill her and end everything but the other disagreed, saying that would be a waste. And then in a cruel voice, they hoped for her to beg for death.
Don't tell them anything, under no circumstances. No matter what, don't tell them or kill yourself if you think you will break. Traitors are not tolerated because if they don't kill you, we will.
The ominous warning would loop around her head, a bitter reminder of her foolishness. When she had first heard the threat, she had taken it lightly, being young and naive. She was full of ambition, not thinking of the consequences, only wanting to prove that she was brave.
A mistake was what got her in her unfortunate situation. She would own up that it was actually a mistake on her part. She had always been careful but then she had gotten cocky; a rookie mistake. She let her guard down for a fraction of a second. Now, she was damned and had to suffer for her mistakes. Thinking of the warning, now made her want to cry in anger. She would be crying if she wasn't dehydrated. She would be screaming if her voice wasn't hoarse.
Don't tell them. Don't tell them, she would order herself when she faced the pain. I can't tell them because I'm not a coward. I chose this but they never talk about this.
She would have killed herself already if she knew that she would break but somehow, despite the darkness, she still saw the light. It was slowly dying out and when she would not feel the flame in her, she would end it. It wasn't the cowards way out, it was the smart choice. But for now, she still had some fight in her, and she was going to use every ounce until her dying breath. She desperately needed to come up with a plan to save herself. Or at least buy her time. She wasn't a coward. She wasn't afraid to die, but she would admit, that in her pathetic and weak state, she couldn't handle any more pain. She was just tired.
She flinched at the loud noise that came from outside the walls. She could feel herself become paranoid, any second someone could come inside and do something more awful than before. The noise continued for a long time until it stopped. She tilted her head when she heard shouts in the language that her captors thought she didn't understand.
Her fingers dug painfully into the cold cement while her back was pressed into the equally cold and moist cemented wall. Her legs drawn up, trying to keep herself warm. She licked her chapped lips, wincing at how painful it was to simply touch them. She was an absolute mess; her clothes were dirty and ripped, her hair was matted and knotted, her skin full of sweat and bruises, and squinting in the darkness she could see dried blood on her hands and arms.
That wasn't the worst part. Nothing compared on how she felt. Her body felt like she was slowly dying. The cuts that she had felt like they were burning her skin. The gnawing sensation in her stomach, that was a constant reminder of her starvation. The exhaustion that she felt would take over her and paralyzed her. Every time she moved a muscle, she had to bite her lower lip to stop herself from crying out.
What felt for the first time in a long time, she hesitantly moved and groaned at the aching feeling that went through all over her body. She could still hear the loud noise and despite the warning signs going off in her head, she went on her knees and crawled towards the door, were the only source of light she got was from the crack of the door.
Lying flat on her stomach, she felt the cool, hard floor through her flimsy shirt. She peered through the crack. It was small, almost teasing her, telling her that she is so close to freedom but can't reach it. Her eyes burned at the brightness―it had been a long time since she had been out of her cell―but she remained there, trying to see at least something.
She could see distinct shadows moving around and strained to hear anything. She could hear muffled voices and machine noises that unnerved her. She stayed there for a long time until her cheek became numb and couldn't feel it. She scurried back to her corner, like a rat caught in a fire, when she heard loud steps going towards her direction. The noise got louder as they step got closer.
Like before, she had herself pressed against the wall farthest of the door and her palms were flat against the cement, trying to anchor herself. She flinched when the door slammed opened, revealing the piercing brightness, making her shield her eyes and squint to the figure in front of her. She tried to sit up but the exhaustion had taken over, making her feel like she weights a ton. It made her nervous, afraid of what was going to happen to her.
In broken English, a familiar harsh voice, that always made her grit her teeth in anger, spoke to her, saying the same words every time they went to fetch her.
"Up. Now. Let's go."
Thoughts?
