Cherry || b.barnes

34 || Dandelions

That's... not good. Like, not good at all.

I should've kept the shield after all. I have nothing else in here that could possibly be useable for my protection.
Because Steven Rogers doesn't come to talk. He comes to kill.

He's not like James. James has been forced over and over again with a mind strong enough to break through the gates of hell repeatedly, and my father is nothing like that. He came for us to lay dead to his feet, and with my mother, he has been successful. With me, just as I revealed, he isn't. And since I obviously will be cuffed, that means there's not a real chance of me getting my second shot now. Leaves saving myself.

But at the same time, I have another problem. Another something that claims a part of my head as theirs, just that my head doesn't have any parts left to be claimed. My headaches threaten to lead to faint.

I don't want to be locked up. I think myself a coward enough regarding James and how I avoid his eyes; I don't need to add to that. Part of me wants to be waiting for him, look him dead in the eye and accuse him. Not in the means of getting answers; that boat is missed for a very long time. No, much rather in the means of holding all the shit I've been through up against him. 

But that would lead nowhere. Even if I did tell him how miserable I've been all these years, it'd cause no reaction. Not even a blink. Just the snap of a trigger, because I gave him time to be ahead of me. He'd be indifferent about all that and this means there's no point in trying to make him see what he put me through.

Fuck all this. I need to get out, throw that princess behavior of mine I got used to way too soon over board. I'm gonna miss the bed. 

Instinct taking over, I first try my luck with the elevator button. Sometimes, they leave the most obvious way out open because they think the prisoner would not expect them to do it and not doing it means less work. Evidently, they however did cross a line through that path.
After a minute of desperate tries of mine to get the button working without any results, I am going for new paths. Running through the entire level, trying to get open any of the windows. Nothing.

Breaking the windows doesn't get me anywhere, either. I don't know if they suddenly exchanged them with Vibranium, but even as I throw a chair against the glass doors leading to the emergency stairs, it bounces of like gum and merely leaves tiny scratches. 

Me being trapped does no good for my already poor mental health. I'm not used to being imprisoned. Not prepared. Years and years on the streets were awful, yes, but I always found a tiny glimpse of peace in the freedom it meant. Countless nights mesmerizing the constellation of the stars, learning how to survive in a forest which comes in handy because you wouldn't be screwed without anything that you really own, can call yourself. You wouldn't be screwed if everything was taken from you. Freedom has its own sweet taste, was the child's song my mother couldn't sing to me after she passed that I listened to each time before falling into restless sleep. 

And now that it's gone, I hyperventilate. I always had the chance to escape during my time in this tower should I have wanted to, and that knowledge was my safe haven. I could go and leave as I pleased and disappear. Maybe would result in prison, but that was only if they got their hands on me.

But now, I'm in a cage. I won't be able to use my hands. I won't be able to attack and neither defend myself. I need to be smart as long as I can, because I run out of time way too quickly. It's like the clock on the wall tries to make up for the hours it worked way too slow during my presence in the interrogation room. 

Another minute in which I try figuring these shackles out.
Another minute in which I search through the whole kitchen just to find not a single piece of cutlery or a plate left.
Another minute in which I consider my deodorant as effective when sprayed into his eyes, just to find that all of this is gone, too.