Ever since I can remember, nothing but perfection has been expected from me.
I have trained and studied all my life to be perfect, and I won't fail.
I can't fail.
~
Being raised and treated like a weapon all of her life, will she succeed at being t...
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May 2nd.
'Everyone will know to fear the name of Irya Riddle'
'You will be remembered, you will be feared.'
'My daughter, Irya Riddle.'
~~~~~~~~~~
The memory of his cold voice echoes in my head.
I wake up suddenly, putting a hand over my heart as I try to catch my breath. I look over at the device Natasha gave me, and I see it's just over 2 am.
I feel confused for a moment, I was so tired so why did I wake up?
But then, suddenly I feel a shot of pain hit me, in my left forearm. For a moment it felt like when Voldemort would call for me or when he wanted to give a message, but soon I knew it wasn't the case. The pain intensified, and I didn't know what to do other than put my hand over the dark mark in a desperate attempt to make it stop.
I could feel tears falling freely down my cheeks, as the pain now felt like it was growing up my arm. What the hell is happening now? He can't possibly be calling for me, can he? It's never felt like this, it never hurt like how it hurts right now, not even when I first got the mark.
Then, just as sudden as it had come the pain stopped.
I took my hand off from my forearm to have a look at the mark, and was surprised to see how irritated it looked, like it had actually been burning my skin.
----------
I fell asleep after about an hour, and I woke up to the memory of his voice repeating over and over again in my head.
Hearing his voice only makes me feel even more sure that the decision I took of helping this SHIELD thing was the right thing to do.
I have to do something good, something to at least try and make up for the bad I've done.
And even if that wasn't enough, I have to admit it, I would miss the danger, the adrenaline that comes with fighting. The meaning it gives me.
You can take the witch out of the war, but you can't take the war out of the witch, I guess.
I get up from the bed, and without wasting time I go straight to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, and close my eyes as I feel the numbing cold water fall on me.
After the long ice cold shower I put on a towel, wrapping it around my body. As I'm walking back to the bedroom I pass by the mirror, and stop a minute to look at myself.
Although my features are the same, the new look of the light blonde hair framing my face make me look like a different person, it gives me a more mature look in a way, less like a child.
It's not like I want to look old but I think a mature look suits me, specially after what I've been through, after I've changed so much.
When I think about that, my mind goes into a dark place, the memories of the war and Hydra attacking my brain, so I try to focus on something else instead.
