The Memories of Night | 18+

𝗦𝗶𝘅𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"I don't want to!"

I was nine, my hands trembling as I held the daggers. A real person, one who was breathing, sitting just five inches in front of me. "I don't want to kill him, don't make me!" I cried, I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, the hesitation would give me a punishment, but I would take it, I would take my punishment to not kill someone. And then I froze because Hunter was brought in, my best friend in the whole world.

I ripped free of the agents holding me, dropping the daggers to the ground as I sprinted to my best friend.

He was a year older than me, with shaggy brown hair and bright green eyes, the color of moss, or at least what moss looked like in the pictures in the school room. And when I reached him, he wrapped me up in a hug, trying to soothe my trembling body. "Star," he whispered, and I shook my head, burying my head further into his chest as I cried. He had a growth spurt recently, and he got taller, I barely reached his shoulders anymore. "You need to, or they will punish you."

"I don't want to be a kill-" I screamed when I felt the dagger enter my leg, the pain so searing my knees gave out and Hunter held me tighter. They brought him in to hold me while they punished me, but I clung to him, screaming so loud my voice went hoarse, and when they yanked the dagger out after it had pierced through the skin on the opposite side, I vomited, all over Hunter. But he said nothing, just used his thumb to wipe the vomit off my chin. "I can't-"

Hunter pressed his forehead to mine, a kid forced to be an adult, for me. I could feel the blood running down my leg, my vision was going hazy, but I blinked so I could focus on my best friend. "Do it Star, do it so Jennifer doesn't have to come in and do it, she just finished her first one, do it so I can take you to medical, do it so they don't see you scared." He was ten, ten years old, and was the stability I needed so desperately. My parents worked with us, trained us, shaped us into these... these monsters. And they never looked at me, I was just trainee King. Mom hadn't smiled at me since I was six, and Dad hadn't acknowledged me since I was five. But Hunter has been by my side since I walked into this hell, and he will be with me until I leave. "Hold onto me."

Those three words, hold onto me.

So with a bloody leg, and a weak arm, I lifted the dagger that was now covered in my blood, I felt the warmth of it slide along my hand, smelt the iron in the air, and before I could doubt myself, I launched it, knowing it would land true, and when I heard the man gurgle, I wrapped my bloody arms around Hunter's neck and let him carry me to medical. Accepting that I would always be a monster.

I shot up, panting and drenched in sweat.

Steve lay beside me, his head turned towards the window, but his arm was wrapped around my hips, keeping me tucked into his body. I blinked rapidly, finding the clock in the middle of the room, it read three-thirty and I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to will myself not to tremble. No one would be able to convince me that I wasn't a monster, I did everything out of self-preservation, I didn't enjoy killing, but I had no choice. I wasn't desensitized, but death was so apparent in my life, that it lurked in every corner, like a demon waiting to sink its claws into me. I could almost see it now, lurking in the corner, waiting for me, and I almost wanted to give in, almost wanted to join my friends on the opposite side, away from everything, all of my pain.

And then I glanced at Steve again, Captain America, the man who didn't see me as a monster.

The golden city lights glowed across his face, his lips parted as breaths left his mouth. He was beautiful and had a heart as pure as the face he wore. Steve, my Steve, the man who has claimed me, who has held me and listened when he didn't have to. Hold onto me. Those words echoed in my head, and now it wasn't just Hunter who whispered them, it was Steve Rogers. And, maybe, if he saw that I was worth saving, then maybe I was worth saving. Maybe I could atone for the sins I was forced to commit. So with a shakey, clammy hand, I traced the side of his face, studying the way he shifted so he could feel the weight of my touch. And I decided, that his life would always be more important than mine, but I would trade everything in the world to keep him safe. If it came down to him or me in a battle, I would choose him, I would save him.