Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part 8

"Rumlow"
Flashed through my mind as he pressed me harder against the wall. As if trying to crush me.
— Brock? — I asked, and my voice dissipated into the engulfing darkness.
It was hoarse because he was pressing a knife to my neck.
— What do you think? — he answered a question with a question. His eyes darted across my face, and he laughed loudly. So loudly that my head buzzed, and I squinted my eyes shut.
The cold metal knife slid across my brow, leaving a small trickle of crimson blood, then down my cheek, moving to my lips. I prayed silently for him to finally let me go. My fighting skills were nothing against his. And he was armed, holding me in a way that I couldn't move. Adrenaline surged in my blood at his movements as I stealthily pulled a knife from my hip pocket, unnoticed by him. I did it almost motionlessly as he played with me running his knife all over my face.

— What do you want? — my voice was more confident, but panic pounded in my head. I didn't show it, only frowned to let him know I wasn't pleased with his appearance in my life. I hated him almost as much as Alex. He was just a monster, and a liar who tried to sit on two chairs. But it seemed the chairs were too small, and one of them cracked, named S.H.I.E.L.D.
Where I thought he died, like the last scumbag. I had read that he was buried under a building, but he was resilient.

— Where are the serums? — he tensed, his voice hardened, and the knife returned to its previous place. I smiled and, without the slightest fear in my eyes, replied.

— They're long gone! You're out of luck, my friend. It seems all your dreams, hopes, and plans crumbled, just like that building

— I deliberately emphasized the last three words. He knew exactly what I was talking about.And it seemed to enrage him even more. His eyes filled with frenzied fury, and the familiar metallic smell of blood filled the air.

— I'll kill you right now, and no one will ever know. You'll rot here like the last piece of scum — he was determined, but in his eyes, panic and fear were already visible.

— You think I'm afraid of death? — it was a rhetorical question. And no, I wasn't afraid of death; having endured so much physical abuse from Pierce, death seemed like it would be a relief.
All l'd suffered in twenty-some years could only be understood by James, because his fate was even worse. I only feared that I might end up back where I'd so diligently tried to escape, and finally, I had done it.
I felt a sudden release. I didn't understand what had happened, then turned towards the light of a streetlamp where a man's silhouette was clearly visible.He had pulled Ramlow away and they began to fight. I gripped the knife in my hand and simply crouched down on the ground, closing my eyes and pressing my hands to my head. I didn't care what was happening. I felt nauseous, and a sharp ringing sounded in my head.
I felt myself losing control over my actions. My heartbeat sped up, and my hands shook as if in the cold, an uncontrollable tremor that wouldn't stop.

— What's wrong with me? — I whispered this repeatedly, not noticing anyone around me.

— What's wrong with me? — a question I couldn't find an answer to. Tears flowed on their own; I couldn't control them, just as I couldn't control what was happening to me. I rocked back and forth like someone mentally unwell, still whispering.

— What's wrong with me, how do I stop this? — my temples throbbed, and strong male hands embraced me.
He took my hands from my head and squeezed them to get my attention. A tightness filled my throat.
It was James; he held my face, his metal hand cold even through his glove. I looked at him, feeling an ache in my chest growing stronger. Tears continued flowing, making my face wet.

— Breathe with me! Come on! — he yelled at me to make me listen to him.
I nodded and began breathing deeply.
Gradually, it started to pass, and I felt a sense of relief. But I kept crying, now gasping from the tears.

— James..what...was that? — I asked, my eyes darting around the dark alley in search of Rumlow. He was nowhere in sight; I concluded that he had just fled like the last coward.

— You had a panic attack. Was it your first? — he asked, drawing my attention. I nodded in response. I'd never experienced something like that and had no desire to go through it again. I didn't even know such a thing existed. I finally wiped my eyes, still sitting on the damp, cold concrete.
We just looked at each other, occasionally glancing down the street at the rustling leaves. The hour was certainly late, maybe even past midnight. The moon had long risen, and the stars looked as though someone had scattered them. Night had taken its reign.
My hands felt sticky and wet. I held them up to the light and looked. They were covered in dark, sticky blood, dripping down onto my jeans. I wasn't wounded, except for my brow, where the wound had long dried with crimson blood.
James's black turtleneck was wet from his chest to his waist. The damp stain expanded faster with each passing second, leaving no dry place. He showed no sign that anything was wrong. My eyes widened, and my heart began to beat faster. "This is all because of me."
I cursed myself mentally for endangering his life.

— You're hurt! — I blurted out and started to stand. My head spun a little, but I managed to stay on my feet and pulled him along.

— It's okay. It'll heal quickly. — James tried to reassure me, but I didn't want to hear anything and kept pulling him home, holding his hand. I was genuinely afraid something might happen to him because of me. He might finally have been living a normal life, free from Hydra and killing. He had his own problems, and here I was with mine.

— This is my fault — I said aloud. He quickly pulled me by the hand toward him. The streetlight cast its glow over his face, illuminating every inch. His blue eyes seemed to shine. He tilted his head slightly to the side and leaned closer to my face. I felt the warmth of his breath. My heart pounded harder;I was afraid he could hear it. My cheeks flushed pink, though it wasn't visible as I stood in the shadows.

— Don't you dare say that. I decided to help you on my own, and none of this is your fault. — he spoke firmly, continuing to look only into my eyes. His brows furrowed, and his lips tightened into a thin line.He was angry that l'd blurted it out. He looked like a beast ready to pounce on its prey.It seemed to me that James was just playing with me. He returned to his original position, and we continued walking quickly. Or rather, he was walking quickly, while I was almost running to keep up with him.