Agent A

Welcome to the Panic Room

"E.D.I.T.H?" Your voice was soft, still unsure if you wanted to go ahead with what you were about to ask the A.I that seemed to run it all. "Can you please activate some sort of program—I don't want anyone bursting into my room." You sat on the edge of the bed. It was soft—too soft. Pillows and blankets galore. E.D.I.T.H complied. Locking you into your own self isolated fortress as you sunk under the covers. Everything hurt. Bruises mimicking the shape of a seatbelt littering your abdomen, sutures scaled your shoulder, cuts and scraped roamed your body head to toe without a map. "Thank you—"

You were okay during the day, sunlight seemed to make its way into your heart—soothed your soul a little. But come the night when the stars sparkled bright in the darkness, all your felt was cold. Haunted. You never did get help. Everything else was always so much more important. Pushing your on trauma to the side. Everyone had trauma—you were no different. Nightmares were never uncommon, but over the past few months with each passing night a little part of you felt like it died every time you woke. Hell raising images of the past, the things you had done, seen, gone through. Haunting you. Some twisted part of you felt as if you deserved it. A sick game.

Exhausted—it didn't take long for your head to fall limp, your body floating atop the bed, gently resting under the warmth of the covers. Every beat of your heart pumped through your, the lub dub sound soothing you. You were alive, that was all that mattered. You'd done it for a reason, knowing if you did in fact experience an absolute trip—you'd hurt someone. Locking your door and throwing away the key was the only option you saw fit to keep those who wondered the halls of the compound safe. The few times someone had tried to wake you in the past never ended well.

"You were there, you know he's a killer." The harsh words of Casscayo ripped through your body. His first harsh against your cheek. Shocking you into a more conscious state of mind. "Tell me everything Agent, before I get angry." It was a treat, you knew he meant something other then what your brain told you to spew out. An attempt at saying your own life. The more he knew the more he'd find it hard to kill you—right? voice shaking.
"My name is Alexandra Avery, I'm 22 years old, I was born September 3rd in Ohio, I'm from Columbus Ohio, my—my mum is a teach-teacher, my dad, he's-he's a farmer, corn-he farms corn now. He grows corn, there names are Karen and Joe" a harsh blow was landed on your abdomen—the crack of lower ribs could be heard as your screamed through tears. Arms aching from the ropes. Head hanging low as you continued. "I have three sisters, channel's the oldest, then there's me, then my younger sisters Daphne and Alice. I haven't done anything yet—well besides work, I've barely lived, I'll I've ever done is gone to school and worked and went to M.I.T, I'm not fin-finished yet, no-ones lov-loved me yet. Please, please I'm someone's child, I'm someone's sister, I'm a per-person, I'm just doing my job."
"So tell me Avery, what will it take hmm? What's the price you're willing to pay to keep him safe? What do you get out of this?" Casscayo hissed as he ran the edge of his blade done your exposed chest—a line left in its wake. Ripping your skin as blood slowly came to the surface. "You must be tired?" He chuckled deeply. You looked up through mattered hair, arms twisted back behind you, tied behind your back, toes just touching the ground. Arms aching. Body trembling.
"I can't tell you anything because I don't know anything—" you spoke softly. A whimper in your voice, with every word more blood dripped down your chin. Eyes swollen. "Wakanda, that's all I know."
"Silly girl, you'd give your life to protect a piece of metal—"
"Guess you thought my life is worth more then I know it does, Barnes is free, he deserves to be free, I'd rather die knowing he's not under your control then to live a life knowing I failed." Casscayo held your cheeks between his fingers, squishing your lips. Digging his knife into your side slowly as your screamed in pain. He smiled with a wicked grin. Enjoying the sound.
"You'll never get a chance to see our work, see what he can do, what he can give us. An army, better, stronger, fast, more elite then him." You screamed. It was torture.
"I wouldn't ever want to" you spat, feeling a small sense of relief as the knife left your body. Watching as Casscayo stepped back, gun pointed. You'd like flashing before your eyes . Before—nothing. They call it torture for a reason, it makes you wish for something sweet as death. Your body felt cold, maybe that was it? The feeling of death. A cooling warm spreading over you. Disappearing into nothingness.
Screaming as the feeling of knives and fists broke your skin. Broke you. Eyes shut as you fell deeper and deeper into your own dreams. Mind playing tricks on your body as you could no longer distinguish what was reality. The past was the past, mind stuck on replay as you broke into a screaming mess. Sweat dripping from ever inch of you. Thrashing violently in bed, throat ripping from the screams you let out. Pure terror radiating off every inch of you.