Your Way Out

Crimson Haze

I once had a lover. That's all I allow myself to remember. The memory was too much to bear.
I woke up shivering, my head still reeling from the night before. A blurry face in a crimson haze flashed across my mind. But just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. Out of sight. Out of mind.

I had the worst kink in my neck. Sleeping with my head against a desk did a number on my body. My stiff muscles ached, crying out in pain as I lifted myself from my seat. Even with popping joints and tense muscles, a low reverberation of pleasure echoed just below my stomach. I shuddered, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Loki wanted me to touch him today. A real touch. 

Could it be that he trusts me with his secrets? Was there something special he wanted to show me? Did he want to try and strengthen our connection? Was he just trying to get inside my head again

As I dressed for the day, my mind frantically swirled with possibilities--and consequences.
Sitting on my nightstand, overlooked before today, was an innocent orange bottle with a locked white cap. Small enough to fit in my hand, half filled with pink diamond shaped pills. They sat beside a glass of water. 

If Loki could look inside my mind and manifest my emotion, how likely was it that he might manifest my depression? There was a cloudy flash of crimson again. I blocked it out. I didn't want to remember. Not yet. Not now. I dug into my coat pocket and slipped my leather gloves over my hands. Deep breaths. It'll be okay. I told myself this half a dozen times before dragging myself through doorway and out into the hall. 

I was surprised to find two agents waiting for me. A man and woman, both equally intimidating. I don't think I could ever get over how scary S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were. They were like cops in the sense they always made me feel like I was in trouble, even when I wasn't have strange imaginary affairs with enemies of the Earth. 

The duo startled me. I gasped when I noticed them, standing like navy blue statues with weapons. "Good morning, Miss. Bright," the man said with an unusually friendly face. 

"Good morning," I replied nervously. 

"Agent Hanna has requested your prescience before your morning evaluation with the prisoner. Come with us," the woman gestured down the hallway. 

My heart dropped. Panic settled in its place. "Is there a problem?" I asked timidly.

"We don't have any information, ma'am. You just need to come with us," the man tried to keep his smile, but it faltered. Whatever nerves he was trying to quell became a jumbled mess. 

I couldn't read either of them. They were both calm, collected, and reserved. They gave off a dutiful aura. Perfectly preserved emotions, only showing in facial expression, of which they only had two. Forced-friendliness and stoic. We marched to the lower floor of Avenger's tower. Eventually it stops being a sleek and fancy facility and turns into an industrial prison-like complex. Expert interior design and minimalist artwork is exchanged for exposed metal pipes and cold steel walls. This is where Hanna did most of her work, especially now as Loki become her only priority. His cell was down here. She wanted to stay close. 

Her office was a poorly-remodeled storage room. Cabinets and metal framed shelves filled with cardboard boxes were pushed against the walls to make room for Hanna's desk. It was a simple fold out table with a plan swivel chair. The desk held tidy piles of various paperwork, files and folders packed tightly together in an office box, and a state-of-the-art computer, as well as Agent Hanna herself. She was flipping through pages filled with my handwriting. Notes taken from the last few days. She didn't speak for a while. Her head was held in one hand as she flipped back and forth between pages, scanning, sighing, and then searching again. She flipped the folder closed and raised her head towards me. Her eyes were like coal. A pupil surrounded by an inky black halo. Cold and dark.