Apathy - Avengers Fanfiction

The Woods Behind Her House

⊰⊹ฺ

A young girl by the name Ophelia runs through the woods at the back of her overly sized home, her long red hair flowing behind her in waves. She's wearing a white dress that reaches her knees, light-pink leggings beneath the silk white fabric and over her legs. Her small feet were shoeless, the feeling of the grass against her skin refreshing to the young girl.

Her entire life had been centered around cameras and forced smiles. Her parents were well known politicians, they're names known by most and their opinions known by more. You'd think at the age of four she'd be playing dolls with friends or playing at the playground, instead she spent her time practicing her smile and getting fitted for dresses and learning how to stand, sit, and even walk properly. The girl hardly knew the definition of fun, if you needed to know how to sit still and look pretty however she could give you dozens of tips and tricks.

It was this life that made Ophelia appreciate running through the grass barefoot. There's nobody watching her in the woods behind her house, nobody to pretend to. She could have a real smile on her face instead of the fake one she'd perfected, you could hardly tell the difference between the two.

The young red-headed girl moved deeper into the forest, stepping over branches and being careful to avoid getting too dirty as she didn't want to sit through another scolding. Though she didn't have friends to play tag or hide and seek with, Ophelia managed to keep herself entertained which wasn't hard when most of her life was such a dull routine.

Suddenly she slipped in a bit of mud she hadn't noticed, her foot sliding from beneath her. She flailed her pale-white arms in an attempt to balance but ended up falling forwards, scraping her knees across some rocks that were hidden beneath the thick layers of wet dirt.

Quickly Ophelia moved into a sitting position, looking at her muddied clothes in dismay. Her parents were going to lose it when they saw her covered in dirt! Moving to stand she let out a sharp breath at a stinging in her knees. Stumbling over to a dry spot in the grass she sat back down and rolled up her formerly pretty coloured leggings.

Her knees were both scraped up, blood dribbling down her pale skin. The four-year-old rubbed her left hand in the grass in an attempt to dry it off before running her still-dirty fingers over the scratches. Tears stung her eyes and she quickly pulled her fingers away at the pain.

It may seem like a dramatic reaction for a few small scrapes but the young girl hardly got injured besides stubbing her toes. She'd been too busy with keeping up her family's image to trip up and get small cuts or scrapes from running around. Stumbling and tripping never got a good reaction from her parents, at least not in private.

Suddenly a small gasp came from the girl, her eyes widening at a sudden tingling in her freshly made injuries. Looking down at the cuts in her knees she watched in amazement as they slowly began to fix themselves, any dirt that'd been in them removing itself. Glancing down at her fingers she noticed a slight glowing in her fingertips beneath the dirt.

She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, pushing to her feet with a breath. What was happening to her? This certainly wasn't normal! Was she doing this or was someone else? Her mind flooded with thoughts as she watched the cuts scab over and the light she'd seen in her fingers fade away.

"Ophelia!"

A man's voice echoed through the woods and into her mind. Father, she realized, he was looking for her! Hesitantly she turned back the way she came, surely she'd just imagined this. Scratches healing within seconds? That's impossible! Maybe she'd just hit her head too hard when she slipped.

"I'm over here Papa!" She finally called back, pulling her leggings back down and running towards her father and back to her large house. As she ran she began to prepare herself for the long scolding she'd recieve for being so "disgustingly dirty" as her mother called it, pushing the thoughts of her scratches and glowing fingers to the back of her mind.

She couldn't tell them about it she knew, it was just a silly dream. Why would she? Ophelia Lionsby was a perfectly normal four-year-old girl, daughter of two perfect politicians. She had to be.

⊰⊹ฺ