Fate decides who comes into your life; your heart decides who stays.
"𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑."
[X-Men: First Class - X-Men Apo...
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Time moves strangely. How long has it been since she last felt joy? How long has it been since she last remembered her friends without terror flooding her veins? How long has it been since she disappeared?
The days meld together as if none are important. The crystal around her neck weighs heavily with each passing hour, reminding her of her own foolishness. To believe she could escape her past, run until her feet bloodied and tore, was simply a dream that could never be reality.
Fate is cruel in that way.
Her skin feels burnt yet frozen at the same time. Fingers that are not hers and touches she does not want brush against her as punishment. It is a struggle not to recoil, yet she maintains her composure. She refuses to give them the satisfaction.
And yet, she knows her captor knows of her anguish, knows of her fears. She knows her mind is no longer her own and belongs to the one who molded it so many years ago. Does she even belong to herself now? Or has she become that word again? Has she become the monster Shaw and Trask wanted to see?
Is she simply a weapon to be wielded by her creator?
"Yes, you are, darling."
She shuts her eyes tightly, allowing herself a moment to push away the pain before she continues watching outside the small apartment.
"Seen the paper today?"
Why reply when they both know the answer?
The sound of the paper hitting the table beside her makes her turn. She gently grasps the bottom and flicks it up to read the headings, trail her gaze down the useless articles. There is no use for this now. Not when she no longer has the luxury of choice.
A name catches her eye.
Her spine straightens.
A family dead in Poland. A known terrorist on the run. A group of police murdered.
"Find anything interesting?"
Erik.
"Yes, I knew the name looked familiar. Shame about that family. Seems the man took your advice and moved on, built a life for himself. It's strange you don't feel any pride for that, do you?"
His wife and child. Dead.
"Such delicious pain you feel, Alexandria. It's amusing that you still try to hide it. Your attempts are futile." A strong hand grips her chin, forces her away from the paper. "I urge you to forget about all that nonsense. We have bigger wars to win than your conflict of the heart."
When her jaw is released, she looks back down at the paper. For a moment, a horrifying moment, she feels nothing but relief. He is back, and he is angry. Maybe he stands a chance, maybe he'll find her, try to save her. If anyone can, it would be him.
