What I Lost || sequel to Worth It

Thirteen

𓆏

In Rochester, New York, a family was getting ready for bed.

The mom and step-dad watching the news in bed while their teenage children were washing the dishes from dinner and wiping down the kitchen counters.

Unbeknownst to the family of four, a black clad figure was creeping through their backyard. Her hair braided in the back to keep it out of the way.

The mom of the house, Jennifer, worked as a chemist and she just so happened to be on the verge of a breakthrough that some people would rather her not get to.

The figure placed a small metal device on the lock on the back door, gears clicked and ground as the door came unlocked.

Old hinges in desperate need of an oiling creaked as the back door was pushed open. The siblings cleaning up in the kitchen whipped their heads around. The figure stood looming in the shadows, not yet making a move. The older brother grabbed a chef's knife and stood in front of his sister in a protective manner. The figure just cocked her head at the boy. He couldn't have been older than nineteen. His sister looked to be about thirteen or fourteen.

In one swift movement, the figure sent a hunting knife flying through the air and it lodged itself in the front of the boy's head. His sister screamed in fear and horror as her brother's body lay lifeless on the linoleum floor, blood pooling under his head.

The figure exited the shadows and walked closer to the young girl. Grey eyes staring down the teen who was clinging to the edge of the counter, her breathing resembling that of a mouse who had been caught by a sadistic feline.

"Please..." she pleaded. "Please don't hurt me!"

The face staring her down was devoid of any sympathy. This wasn't a person with a life and purpose, this was a roadblock on her path to competing a mission.

A hand slowly raised to meet the side of the young girl's face, gently cupping her check. The figure offered the young girl a smile that didn't reach her eyes before slamming the girls skull down on the marble countertop. A  nauseating crack echoing throughout the room offered assurance that her job was halfway done.

The door at the top of the stairs swung open as the- now dead- children's parents came running downstairs. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the girl with knives strapped to each of her thighs and a handgun on her hip standing in their dining room.

Before they could say anything, two rounds were embedded in their heads. The silencer muffling the sound of gunshots. She hunched over and yanked a necklace with a small key off of Jennifer's neck.

She stepped over the bodies and ascended the stairs. The sound of the news was still coming from the parents' bedroom, leading the figure to her next task. She ignored whatever story was being discussed as her eyes scanned the room for what she was looking for. She crouched down and looked under the bed and there it was, a small grey lock box. The key fit perfectly inside and it opened with a satisfying click.

Inside was a single yellow flash drive. She pulled it out of the box and dropped it on the floor before bringing her foot down on the piece of technology. It broke into multiple pieces and her mission was complete.

She turned to leave but a picture on the television caught her eye.

"(Y/N) Stark has been arrested on multiple counts of first degree murder. Stark has been MIA since January of 2021 and was widely presumed dead so it is safe to say this came as a surprise to many. Specifics in the situation have not yet been released to the public but we do know that she is being represented by Nelson and Murdock, a small law firm located in Hell's Kitchen. Although the death penalty is illegal in New York, many are protesting against her life sentence, claiming that she doesn't deserve to live. On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are many calling for her release, arguing that she was only helping to protect people- doing what law enforcement officers can't."

The picture of the girl on the screen was messing with her mind. Unfamiliar memories were trying to come to surface, bringing a pounding to her head. The images flashing through her mind were conflicting with what she knew. They were warm and comforting compared to the harsh ways of HYDRA that she had grown accustomed to.

She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes trying to soothe the pain in her head, it was pointless.

When the pain had finally subsided for the most part, she stood and looked again to the girl on the screen. There was some sort of connection. There was history and emotion behind the images in her head.

Her heavy boots carried her to her kitchen where she pulled a paring knife out of a drawer. She felt around in her arm until she felt the hard plastic below the skin. Her teeth remained gritted until the tracking device fell to the ground with a soft clatter. She stepped over the bodies on the floor to drop the tracker down the garbage disposal.

•••

Her black uniform was replaced with blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a band she couldn't recognize on the front. The clothes were a bit tight on her but it was the only option. She hurried to the bathroom, trying to leave before anyone noticed she was there.

She looked at her reflection, it was different than the last time she had access to a mirror. As she stared ahead, her actions became clear. She had killed those people. She had killed children. And this wasn't the first time. Images of pleading children with their parents blood splatter across their faces flashed in her mind, making her stomach turn. She lifted up the toilet seat and pulled her hair back before emptying her stomach. There wasn't much in there but the taste was rancid. Acid burning her throat.

Mouthwash swished around her mouth, the spearmint flavor washing away the taste of guilt. She spat and let the tap run, appreciating the steady sound.

She returned to her reflection and admired the differences in her appearance. Her hair was longer and curlier than she was used to due to lack of heat treatment. Her dark brown roots had grown out considerably and only about half of her hair still had blonde in it. She was a completely different person. It was disturbing to see how much she'd changed. Her face was thinner and her body was more toned, muscles that weren't there before now bulged when she flexed.

She still wasn't sure exactly who she was or why that girl on the news brought forth such a reaction but she was determined to find out.

There was a small sewing kit in the linen closet that she used to stitch up her arm before taping gauze around it. She made sure to clean up any blood too. If HYDRA had taught her anything it was to never leave a trace.

•••

With a new outfit and a small bag packed with her old clothes, weapons, some money she took, and food and water. Ophelia twisted the key in the ignition and drove off in the car previously belonging to someone who no longer has use for it. She was ready to figure out who she was.

A/N: I was contemplating making it so she was with hydra from the beginning but she's Jewish so that'd be kinda icky so I decided against that. We are finally on track to getting into the fun shit so strap in, friends. If I keep all the ideas I have, this book is maybe gonna be longer than the first so I hope you enjoy.