ᄂΣƬΉΣ [Soldier76 x Reader x Reaper]

1 [[ Deep Breaths ]] 1

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out.

A heavy, quite hairy, hand is pressed gently against her back as a comforting gesture, an encouraging push. She hadn't quite met the people Winston had been babbling about. The people he sparks her interest with in her previously bed-ridden state. An amusement of some sorts. Or what she thinks to believe is a protocol. To assist her in the recollection of her memories in which she cannot seem to take back. Perhaps they were lies. She could never be too sure.

The days have stretched longer than she could ever keep up with. The food only tasted as sand and metal, the water only making her throat drier than it already was. In a room so forlorn it was maddening, there was only so little to keep herself busy with. How easy would it be to just leave? Look for something not familiar or anything that she hasn't seen in the confines of this insufferable white room.

The constant begging to the anthropomorphic gorilla had proved effective. With a heavy sigh and a sympathetic chuckle, he scheduled a gathering among the figures Winston tells her about. A meeting to acquaint her with them and them to her. Then a tour of the base. After that, it's back to the room that had further developed her claustrophobia. Again, these could be lies. The very fallacy she would fall for.

But it was her choice to trust the man- gorilla?- who had saved her. Though it was not him who had rescue her. He had only taken her in. He had only found her after she had been saved. After the drama that had taken place not too long ago.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

There is a stillness in the room. A heavy, unabated air that suffocates lingers. She stood dead center, shrinking under the eyes of unfamiliar figures like statues bound to stare. Darkness seemed to consume her, hold her in place by her legs. It was irrational, her fear. She had told herself so many, too many times. She was almost sure she was out of way of danger, that the sirens in her head were faulty from trauma.

And yet, the fear bloomed in her chest, slowly creeping down her spine like predatory vines. It's irrational. A pain in the ass. Where had all that courage she had instilled in herself gone? What was the point of taking time to breathe in? Breathe out. Breathe in. Out. In. Stop.

The excruciating sounds of cracking bones and gunfire was torturous to her ears not because of their volume. Nor were the sounds too gruesome to sit through. They were not her bones fractured. Not her skin torn though it was meant to be. This was a punishment only she was meant to endure.

Though for some reason, this man decided the wounds on her body were not hers to take. This man decided the torture was not a punishment she was charged to live through. For some unsung reason, he was taking her away from all this pain.

Where he was taking her, she did not know. For all she knew, there was an underlying intention in this heroic act. For all she knew, he was taking her away from purgatory, off to hell and further her suffering. There was doubt that this rescue attempt was nothing more than a man's veneer in which she's figured had been a constant torment sent to haunt her. Yet, how he held her so close to his chest, how his protective arms curled over her shoulders and knees as if to keep anything from inflicting any more injuries to her abused skin. How he carried her over thorns and stepped over flames to get her out of that sickening building. Her prison.

For the first time, she had felt the burdening weight be lifted from her fragile shoulders. For the while that he had been holding her, taking her away into a far away place much like the stories she had heard a woman speak about from behind bars. But not long before they could reach the crowded streets, the prince had staggered, causing them to skid across the cold grounds.