Becoming An Avenger - [Steve Rogers] (COMPLETED)

Chapter 29: Loki, The God Of Pain

The darkness did not help me wake up. I slept for about two days. As I woke, my memories came back fully.
I remembered what the creepy German guy said about S.H.I.E.L.D.

I remembered how I was almost blown to bits

I remembered how I was still here in this hell hole.

I remembered how Loki was standing right outside the door.
I remembered how I was not capable of sensing that Loki was outside the door and how he was mentally arguing with himself.

My eyes widened. I felt weird.

I felt like I could heard everything in the world.

I felt as if I was being squeezed into a tiny jar

I felt trapped inside my own body.

I could not stop the feelings inside of me. I jumped up from the experiment table and towards to wall. I heard Loki come into the room. I squeezed my head, trying to soothe the discomfort. What was happening to me?

I felt hands on my shoulders. Fingers rubbing circles on my back. I was too busy crying to care. Why did I feel trapped? Why did I feel this way?
Loki bombarded me with comforting words, but not out loud.

"Evelyn. Just breathe. I'm so sorry. But outside I'm not. I cannot say how truly sorry I am out loud for reasons you, or anyone, would never understand. I'm so sorry."

His voice sounded completely clear in my mind, but I could not hear anything.

"What did you do to me?" I screamed at him, but only my lips moved. It was like my mind was speaking to him and not my voice.

"Sleep. You might just figure that out yourself," Loki told me.

My eyes drooped. I felt a soft pair of lips on my forehead before falling into a deep and needed sleep.

My hands were positioned right by the sides of my head as I laid restrained by black ropes.

My mouth wide open like I was screaming, but no sound came out.

My eyes wide with fear, but that fear had already begun.

Knifes, guns, grenades, and other dangerous devices were lined up on the walls of the dark unwelcoming room.

A shadow looking over me. A fit but dangerous figure.

Long black hair cascading down his shoulders.

Cheekbones high on his proud face.

His eyes. Oh his eyes. His eyes were as vivid green as a thriving forest during spring.

He held his hands over the sides of my head. He showed no sign of remorse or satisfaction.

Tears streamed down my face.

And his face as well.