Cherry || b.barnes

35 || Sparks

»Liar.« I say, and not because I'm simply convinced he's a bad person. Steven Rogers has to be lying. After all, I still have his scent stimulating emotional brain regions of mine, and this can't come from three months of age, can it?
I saw his footsteps. With my perfect memory, it was easy to compare them a million times to shoes I found of his, to footsteps of his in photos, and they are all similar. »Why don't you just kill me already? Let's get this over with.« I add, turning towards him and staring him blank in the eye. It's not like my promise was gone, forgotten from one second to the other, but I see no more realistic outcome for me in this anyways.

Steven's strong shoulders heave with the depth of his breath. »I don't want to kill you, Nemesia. Why would I?«

»You tell me« I respond, still facing America's false angel. 

»For God's sake, I'm not lying.« he grunts, head back in his neck again. »If I really wanted to kill you, why wouldn't I have done so already?«

»For the same reason I didn't just walk up into your level and shoot you in your sleep. We both like the drama.«

Rolling his eyes, one of his dark brows cocks up. The motion makes him appear a little older, and I suddenly understand why Tony is convinced there's not an ounce of humor in this man. »I hate drama.« he announces, and gets ahead of me declaring him as untrue again. »Why don't you just listen to what I have to say? You can't remember, you were too young. But I do.«

»Why should I, when every word you say isn't honest anyways?«

I can see in his eyes what a fucking pain in the ass I am, but he doesn't say anything about it, trains himself in patience. »I could call Wanda and ask her to deliver my memories to you, if you don't believe me.«

»And in exchange you want mine? Seeing what went wrong back then to make it better this time?«

»Why are you so persisting?« the blonde demands, cerulean locking with colorless grey. »I get that you want to blame someone for everything you've been through. And I too get that the most plausible person for that is me. If you need to let your frustration out, more than you already did, be my guest. But I won't let you swim in false beliefs any longer. Just give me a chance to explain myself. If you believe it or not, that's up to you.« There's a mist clouding the mirrors of his soul with his next words, portraying anguish, torment. »Let me tell you what really happened. I see how you get to the conclusions you got to, but let me clear that up. If you then still want me to leave you alone, I promise, I will.«

Hard as it is, comes unspoken with it, but that could just be another act or an illusion of what I wish to be real. »I can spend my time with much better and more interesting things.«

»Stop lying to yourself. You can still plot how you're going to kill me while you listen to the answers of all unasked questions of yours.«

»I hate you« I spit, and I mean it. I hate him for everything. For every time I was hurt and he wasn't there. For the death of my mother. For leaving me alone and on the streets all these years. For trying to be the good father now just to lure me in and snap my neck as soon as I'm close enough, quite literally. For reading me although he never really met me, got me to know.

He rolls his eyes again. »I know. But you forget where your stubbornness comes from. I'll stay in here until I said what I want to say, and made sure you listened. I bet at some point, you have to go to the toilet, and it's impossible with your hands cuffed, so...«

»If I don't really have a choice anyways, why are you wasting my time with useless talk, then?«

»Because I'm still not really sure how to tell you all this without turning your world upside down. I'm afraid of how it might affect you, because I get the feeling you praise your mother for things she hasn't done.«