3,73k! 3,73k! Holy shit, that's so much. THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, this really made my day, as I saw it :)
Anyway.... The wonderful @ImIntoEveryone had another amazing idea and I'm happy, I can be the one to write it. <3
Sorry I couldn't finish it sooner :(
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This one is with Carol, because she is just an underrated queen and I like her really much.
I'm not so happy how it turned out, but it's okay I guess, you can tell for yourself.
Tw ~ abuse, mental breakdown, anxiety, scars, suicidal thoughts.... I'm not really good at writing trigger warnings, because I don't know what could possible be a trigger. I don't think of so much as a trigger, so if you find something I should've warned you before, please let me know and I'll change it.
Here you go. Enjoy!
Your POV:
Everything white. I'm in one of those rooms again. Everything is white like in a hospital, but I know the things they do to me here aren't healthy and probably make everything worse.
The tests would always come with hard pain and I wished every day they would just stop. I could die and I wouldn't care, because then everything would stop. The pain, the suffering everything. The voices would quiet down and the thoughts would be gone.
I thought of it more than one times a day, but HYDRA would let me use any weapons. Only in training I would be able to feel the silver blade in between my fingers. If they feed me, I wouldn't get a knife.
Because they need me. They didn't care if I would die on a mission, as long as it wasn't my own fault. As long as I would not kill myself. They needed me to work for them. I should do their dirty work, so that they could win, that they coild get the informations.
I often thought it was to much. To much on my shoulders, I'm only human in the end. Human with a couple of special powers. But they couldn't help me with my mental health.
I do realize, what I'm doing. That it's bad and that I'm not the 'goog guy', like they always say,. Neither are they, even if they tell me 'it's for my best' and 'they just want to help me'.
I know they created a strong weapon with me.
I know it and I can't do anything about it.
One last day, one last mission and then I'd be out of here. I wanted to just go. I know it sounds easy, but trust me, it isn't.
They are like a drug. I know they are bad and I know I should go, but I can't. I'm not addicted to them, that would be really weird, but I'm addicted to the pain. I've lived with it for so long, that I don't know how it will feel to finally be free.
But that day I didn't care. Instead of going to my target and kill him, I just ran. I had no idea where I was anymore. I just ran. Ran until my foods can't hold my own waight anymore and I needed to rest.
