Chapter 1
Living used to be nice. Enjoyable even. I can recall long days where I would romp and play in the grass with the sun kissing my skin and bleaching out my hair. Long summer afternoons spent rolling down warm hills, and glass-clear babbling brooks created the perfect combination. Autumn days filled with anticipation for winter, pumpkin and spices permeating the air, creating a mouthwatering smell. Incredibly long winters smothered snow and canned food, and biting winds that felt like knives on your skin when you stepped outside. Spring days brought rain-showers and fresh smelling earth being overturned for new life. I reminisce about days where I had parents that loved me, a warm home filled with a large family and a scruffy mutt we had named Maxwell. Those days seemed like they'd never end. Everlasting, they created an illusion I had come to love, a warm soap-bubble that isolated me from the horrors of the world.
Then the bubble burst in a shower of blood, and my naivety was dashed along with my family. I remember that day vividly; it isn't everyday your world burns. I still hear my mother's cries as her carefully constructed family fell to the vicious brutes who stole me away.
I still feel my heart pounding as I hid under the kitchen table, watching the blood from my father run into the mortar holding the tiles together, a lone pale hand contrasting sharply with the dark and sticky ground. My horrified sobs, so high-pitched, echoed around the room. I've tried so hard to forget the brutal ways I watched my family die before their bodies went up in dancing flames. So much blood, so much life wasted in such violent ways… It haunts me, the death of my family. It's hard not to have it plaguing my thoughts constantly.
It's not always the deaths, or the brutal force used that shadows my mind. It's also the loss of a child. It's the loss of a brilliant, innocent (and narcissistic, can't forget that) child who hadn't seen the world yet. In other words, me.
I would never again be a sweet, innocent little girl; I would become a lab rat, a prisoner, a madwoman, a liar, a thief, a murderer, and a victim. My soul was scarred the day I watched my little world fall. It was ripped apart. If you could see it today, it would no doubt look like a grotesque patch-work creature, comically horrific, something you couldn't dream even in the depths of human depravity. After that day, life became hell and death seemed like a sweet release.
The years after my loss of my family become blurred, a huge smudge of disoriented pain and nightmares, only pierced by the occasional bout of grim humor shared with other inmates in the concrete prison I called home. I nearly went mad, being the longest living Prisoner in my Prison of Steel. I watched people come and go like the tide, giving up learning about them. I looked on as they went through all the phases I went through; denial, anger, fear, hopelessness, cynicism, aggression, and finally, madness.
The day I escaped that concrete prison was the day I found a bittersweet peace once more. Of course, as fate would have it, that day was also the day I died.
_oOoOoOo_
Director Nick Fury was a very pleased man. His agents had recently found two figures, Captain America, and a child. The child was found in Northern Russia when a couple of his agents were tracking a couple of high-tech drug dealers, despite the fact that the kid was Irish or Scottish. Aside from the fact she had managed to live encased in ice, one fact stood out among the rest.
She didn't exist. Not as though you couldn't see her, but rather that legally, she had no file. Facial recognition didn't work, either. SHIELD had tried everything to figure out who she was, but aside from her physical stature and facial features, they had nothing on her. Absolutely nothing.
Frankly, it scared him, simply because she could be anyone. Anyone who had endured abuse, or torture for years. She was a mass of scar tissue, the one exception her face. The only lead they had on her was an old blueblood family in Great Britain, who had all burned to death nearly a hundred years ago.
Though these are intriguing facts, it wasn't the reason Fury was so gleeful. Both Captain America and this unnamed girl were due to awaken sometime today. He would finally have answers, after months of frustrated searching. He would no longer be frightened of this stick-thin haggard girl.
_oOoOoOo_
So, I've got a bit of this already written and planned, but I'm not entirely sure what to do with it yet. Mostly just OC getting to know everyone. I know a lot of people mock OCs, but I'm trying to get her to be not-a-Mary-Sue. I love my OC's.
If you like this story, head to my page to read some of my other things. I'm trying to fix up a couple of my older stories, so you can take the poll and decide what you like and don't like. Any input at all would be helpful.
I've got a nasty habit of starting a story and then ignoring it, so send me a PM telling me to hurry up with the next chapter if you feel like I'm going too slow. Thanks!
Secret Time Lord over and out.