You Want It Darker? (OC x Loki x Winter Soldier)

CHAPTER THIRTY

A deafening ringing assaults my eardrums, and a light brighter than the sun blinds me as I desperately gasp for air, inhaling as if I had been starved of oxygen until this moment. Flinching, I instinctively raise my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding glare searing into my dilating pupils. Utterly disoriented, I make a futile attempt to sit upright, only to be driven back down by a headache that feels as if my brain is being split in two.

"Holy shit-" I croak in a bare audible voice.

I felt like garbage. My body was utterly sore and weak, my muscles barely able to lift my limbs. Everything around me was both loud and dead quiet at the same time, overloading my senses. As I attempt to get accustomed to the bright light, my blurred vision is slowly able to distinguish my surroundings. With a second attempt, I now slowly push myself up on my arms and peer around the space.

The room was bright and modern, the walls as white as the covers I'm laying under. The fabrics felt soft and expensive, and I automatically let my fingers glide over the steel frame on either side of the bed. Right in front of me stood floor to ceiling tall windows, overlooking the all too familiar city of New York. It looked peaceful. Beautiful. A small smile creeps up in the corner of my mouth as I just stare at the view. In the back of my mind a worried memory tries to push forward but the feeling doesn't stick.

Still blissfully unaware of why I'm here, brainfogged by the eternal sleep I just had woken up from, I push the covers off of my legs and dangle them over the side of the bed. I inspect my own body and notice I'm wearing a simple white t-shirt and soft grey shorts. My eyes scan back to the legs hanging over the bed. They didn't look like mine. They... Looked pale. The lack of bruising was foreign to me. I'd never seen them this clean. This unscaved and healed. I let my fingers trace some of the scar tissue, not fully remembering where each of them originated from.

"What..." I breathe.

My hands lay still in my lap as I gawp at them, not registering them as my own. They couldn't have been mine. I'd remember them looking like this, right?

I lift my trembling hand closer to my face as I carefully inspect the deep almost black scarring tissue completely covering the palms. A constellation of ichor veins crept up my lower arms, as if struck by lightning from hell. The tips of my fingers looked like they had been dipped in a vat of shadows. But what was most disturbing was in the center of my left hand, deep amongst the blackened skin was a core of gold glowing veins, staring right at me. I could feel it pulsating with each heartbeat. Drawing power in and out of my body as each breath left my lungs.

With my other hand I carefully place my thumb on the glowing core, the blackened skin making contact with each other, making sure what I was looking at was actually happening. As my thumb traces the intricate lines, the glowing particles dance around it, as if registering and playing with my touch.

The Stone.

Why the fuck can't I remember. I desperately try to scramble for the answers as to how the fuck I became like this, but the last thing I remember is... The tower. I blacked out.

"Fucking Pierce," I whisper to myself.

That piece of shit got away. Because of me. If only I had the strength to punch myself in the goddamn face I would. How could I have been so fucking stupid. Why did I have to be so weak for my body to give out just when I needed it most? And the stone. I lost it. And this- This freakish deformity is all I have to show for it.

I take a deep breath in and ball my fists, hiding the hideous reminder of my failures and push the negative thoughts to the back of my mind. Ignore it. Just fucking ignore it. I let my eyes wander across the room, desperate for some type of distraction and let my gaze pause on the city splayed behind the large windows.