Winter's Touch

Winter's Touch: Chapter One

One: Sightings.

{A Winter Soldier Fic}

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a normal, uneventful night, just like any other. It had been a long day, and you had been out for quite a while; your cousin needed help with the troubles of a new home, so you went out to her house to help her move things around and organize. The work was tiresome and restless—you'd barely gotten a break all day—but you had given your word and you meant to keep to it. It was only when you were headed home that things started to change for the worse.

It had gotten dark earlier now, and the air had become sharper than it had been in a long time; it bit and nipped at your skin with its cold fingers until you could find refuge in your car. You drove back to the your apartment complex's parking garage; you parked in the lower level, not bothering to come all the way up to your part of the building. You were just too tired for that. It was late anyway, and you could spare time this way.

You hopped out of the car and walked sluggishly towards the elevator, putting your keys in your pants pocket and holding your phone loosely in your hand. It took a few minutes for the doors to open, and when they did, you happily entered and slouched against the back of the enclosed space. You stretched your arms and winced; your muscles had constricted from all of the box lifting and carrying today. Your head swam and throbbed with a headache that you had an feeling wouldn't go away for quite some time. Squinting, you watched the red numbers change from level to level, until it finally stopped at your own. As you waited for the doors to open, you looked down and tucked your phone into your hoodie pouch. You heard the doors open while your attention was averted, but you quickly gathered your things and stepped out into the cold night air again. Only this air wasn't chilled with the temperature. It was chilled with something else entirely.

You innocently made your way over to the doors to the apartment landing stairs, and something caught your attention. You heard a low sound, somewhere off to your right; something like a muffled....well you didn't know what it was. But quite frankly it startled you. You whipped around—for a moment you just stood there, debating possibilities in your head and questioning whether you should just leave it or not. But as always, your curiosity got the better of you and you quietly paced towards the onslaught of cars and trucks and vans that occupied the space. For a while all you could hear was your quiet footfalls as you walked towards a row of them on the other end of the lot, before the muffled sounds got louder and louder as you drew nearer. You looked all around yourself to see where it might have come from, and you had to do a double take to confirm your sighting.

From the corner of your eye you could see a glint of what looked like leather from the side of one of the parked vehicles that you stood near. Your head swam with so many different reasons to why it might be there, and there was one that you kept pushing to the back of your mind—one you were sure was just your overactive imagination. You looked around again, playing nervously with your fingers and biting your lower lip before you turned back around and took a step forward. Immediately the color drained from your face and your blood chilled.

Both your hands flew up to meet your mouth in an effort to keep from screaming, and your eyes began to gloss over with unshed tears. Blood pooled around a mangled and disheveled older woman—her hand pressed firmly on her abdomen. It was oozing warm crimson. She began to stare at you as best she could in the state she was in; unmoving and helpless. Your lip quivered as you walked shakily over to her side and tenderly helped her press down on her wound. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open at the severity of what had unfolded in front of you, in a matter of mere seconds.

"Oh, god—d-don't worry, I'll call an ambulance," You nearly yelled at her, your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you couldn't tell how loud you were. You didn't notice her shake her head in protest as you reached a bloody hand into your jacket pouch and brought out your cell phone, dialing 911. The operator picked up with a calm, "911, what is your emergency?" You began to blurt out he situation to the dispatch, not noticing he lips of the old woman moving to speak—your eyes were shifting in panic. She didn't get your attention until—with what strength she had left—she forced all of her power onto your hand, squeezing it until it was about as pale as your face. You nearly had to pull back from the pressure, but then you noticed her expression—her lips moving softly and her eyes wide with fear. You anxiously asked the operator to quiet down so you could understand the old woman, leaning closer so her dry and cracked lips were close to your ear. It was deathly quiet in the garage, until her raspy wisp of a voice reached comprehension.