Little Bird |Clint Barton's Daughter|

21 Questions

12's POV:

Whip. Cry out. Count.
Whip. Cry out. Count.
Whip. Cry out. Count.

Over and over and over again. The tedious sound of torture. The sound of the blood shredded whip coming down hard like thunder. The screams of torture dart around the base, disconnecting any type of happiness or comfort and even hope from inside the walls.

Torture Day. That's what we call it.

"A day to celebrate." They say.
"You can smell the sweet scent of jurisdiction in the air." They say.
"Go to hell." We say.

After 10 years of this, it all changed. Yup that's right folks 10 years for what I've been told anyway. "Don't you dare defy us 12! We haven't raised you for your worthless 10 years to defy us!!" Huh raised? More like let down.

Most days I don't even listen to them. What should I? They keep us locked up and weak so they can keep control. Why shouldn't I act my age and play?

Yet somehow I think my playtime is different from all the others playtime. They carve pictures into the walls or stitch something. Me? I disconnect guns and create mini bombs or annoy the guards stationed at me door. They say I talk to much. I like talking though like now...

"You know, I can tell you have serious daddy issues by the way you hit. Let me guess, daddy left before you was born? Well, daddy left before I was conceived. But you knew that didn't you? Wait! Are you my dad-"

Crunch. That's the sound of my nose breaking.

"Ow. No need to be rude. I'm taking it as you're not my dad.... I'm an innocent girl asking innocent questions." 

"Shut up you little brat!" Doctor Evil spat.

"No can do." Was my very smartass reply.

Whip. And that's the sound of an extra hit.

They really should be used to this by now. Like I say, they let me down for 10 years, obviously I'm gonna make it hard for them. Stupid!!

I groan and shrug my shoulders, sending a shock and ache down my back. With my hands tied to the rafters there's not a lot I can move.

"Yup. That's gonna scar. You know I should thank you. Why? Oh I'm glad you asked. These scars show I'm a fighter or something. Besides, it's not the ugliest thing I've seen today, is it fugly?"

Doc circles around me. "You enjoy this don't you? You freak." He whispers lowly.

"Not as much as you do." I whisper back wincing.
I'm everything but a liar so when I say I'm a little scared. It's genuine.

"That's just you though isn't it? You use sarcasm to get you through these situations don't ya? Well guess what? You don't fool me like the others alright? You're just really hurting and wanna get out don't ya? Cause you're just a scared little girl."

"What is it? 21 questions." I roll my eyes.

"You just don't know when to give up do ya?"

"22." I smirk, making it worse for my self and earning a punch in the jaw.

"I can do this all day." I spat.

Doc Evil just sighs and unties me, making me fall to the floor with a thump. I groan again and roll over into my side, trying to release pressure off my back.

Suddenly, I feel someone grab my arms and roughly drag me to my cell/room. He leaves me to tend to my own sounds and locks the door.

"Make sure not to let the door slam on your way out." I shout after him.

I grab some gauze and a clean vest. Once I've cleaned my cuts, I wrap my stomach and back in the gauze and slip the best on. I collapse on my mattress and close my eyes, welcoming darkness like an old friend.

*****

4:00am on the dot as usual every morning. I hear the lock slide and my door open. The person I see standing there is my favorite 'body guard' ever. Not.

Not giving the time of day to see if I'm awake, he grabs my hand and pulls me into the training room.

"6 hours as always you little monster. I don't wanna see you stop for one second!! Understood?" His voice laced with venom.

"Okay. I'll stop for two. Maybe three on how I feel."

He shoves me harshly into the mats for me to start stretching. After 15 minutes of this, he pushes a boy of who looks about 16 years old into the ring. If it was another girl going against him them she would be dead in an instance. He's 6'3" and has a scar above his left eye and lip. However, they say I'm their best and youngest soldier ever.

It's suppose to be a fight to the death. I know cheesy. The boy spares no time and lunges at me only to end up sprawling on the floor with a broken jaw. I punch him again when he stands back up; sending a blow to the stomach. He lays on his back, winded and broken ribbed. He sweeps my foot out from under me, causing me to land on my arm. I hear a sickening shatter and scream out in pain; but I get up anyway. This time, he's back up and kicks me in the back. What a back stabber!!

I regain my balance and run towards him. I jump on his shoulders and twist my legs around him; slamming him onto the ground with a broken neck.

I go to step out of the ring when an alarm goes off. I slam my hands over my ears at the loud noise. This alarm means compromise. Nows my chance to put my plan in motion.

~~~~~
Hey guys it me again. Yeah hi, this one is more thought out and I actually have a story line!! Whoop. Whoop.
Anyhow, thanks for the comments and votes I really love the support. And enjoy!

Cya Besties
CoCo x