BOOK 4 of the ORPHIC Series
DISENTHRALL
/ˌdisənˈTHrôl/
set free.
~~~~~
When Lucille 'Lucy' Opal Baker starts adjusting to a world without Captain America and more government therapy sessions...
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"Oh dear, what a pretty world we live in"
Queens, New York August, 2027
MY NAME IS LUCY Barnes.
Lucy exhales as she digs around the attic, squinting as she looks for her super very not-secret box of old belongings– including her ex-HYDRA uniform and her prior Avengers uniform. She had found the key, which was the hardest part. Now she couldn't find the treasure box holding her past belongings.
If you're reading this, that means I'm either lost in the multiverse, have jumped time (again), or have finally kicked the bucket. If it's the last one, I'd be surprised, honestly. I'm not supposed to remain permanently dead– whatever that means for James and I in the future is going to be excruciatingly painful, but, life has never been fair to me, you know?
Lucy sighs; rustles her hair. She moves a box of James's favorite dry-aged beer, pushing it to the side. She's careful not to knock over the expensive liquor they have, setting it out of the way. A familiar ebony hue catches her attention.
She smiles.
I bet you already understand that, though. You've read all four of my journals. Or, at least I hope you read them in order, otherwise this won't make much sense.
The key clicks, and Lucy lets out a breath of relief as she pushes the case open. It had been a few months since she'd last looked for it, and she might've forgotten it existed in the first place. What, she could be forgetful sometimes too!
Her fingers curl around the edge of the box. She grabs the journal she'd taken up to the attic with her. She looks down at it, inspects the worn leather edges. She hesitates, because this is the last of the four journals she'd had for years.
Look, I never asked for any of this to happen. It still did, which either sucks or doesn't– think of it like a cup either half-full, or half-empty. I don't think it's as horrible as it sounds; trauma is what makes a person anyway. Or not, depends how you see it.
She doesn't want to let go of it.
It's her story- who she was, who she is, who she will be.
But well, what other choice does she have? She doesn't want to relive the past for the hundredth time.
She's past all that, anyway.
I'm going all over the place right now, aren't I? Oh– well, anyway, like I said, if you're reading this, I'm probably not here and you're desperate for clues to find where I am. If I jumped time or shifted into the multiverse (again), then no worries, I should be back in two to three business days. If I don't come back for a week, then you should probably start searching for my body.
