Words On My Skin

Chapter 1

желание

ржaвый

Семнадцать

Рассвет

Печь

Девять

добросердечный

возвращение на родину

Один

грузовой вагон

These were the words that were tattooed on your left arm.

The writing was small, only covering your inner arm from your wrist to halfway to your elbow. The miniscule writing, that had been there since you were born, was something that had significant meaning in your soulmate's life.

Every time you looked at the words, you had this wave of anxiety run through your chest. You weren't sure about it, since soulmates weren't as common as they used to be, but you felt a sense of unease as you looked at the foreign words. You knew they were Russian, from a friend in high school who asked about them, but you couldn't bring yourself to translate the words.

Your parents hadn't paid much mind to your aversion on the writing. They knew that you would do it, in due time. Everyone did. Everyone met their soulmate, eventually.

Plus, they were more worried about you becoming their perfect child.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart? New York is a big city." Your mother asked through the cellphone, as you hung up your clothing in your closet. "It's pretty expensive."

"I need this job, mom." You reminded her, once again. "It's the Avengers. It opens a lot of doors for me, and I've worked really hard for an opportunity like this."

"Honey, it's just an assistant job." She sighed, raining on your parade, again.

"Today it's an assistant job. Tomorrow, it's finally becoming something more." You'd worked hard to be good enough to be noticed by Tony Stark. "I'm going to be more."

You heard a huff though the phone's speaker, "I highly doubt that, seeing as it's just an assistant job. All you'll be doing is fetching coffees and filing paperwork."

"For Tony Stark."

"You won't impress him, sweetheart. He's rich and famous, and you'll just be his assistant." She sighed like she was disappointed, "You should've just went to law school, like we planned."

"You planned." You corrected, feeling tears prick your eyes, "You planned for me to go to law school. I never planned that."

"It doesn't matter, anyways. You need to be smart to get in." You could feel the venom in her voice, "Thank god you look like me, or you'd never have gotten anywhere in life. You're going to fail at this, too. I can see it."

She hung up the phone.

You stared at your pile of clothes in disbelief, feeling the tears start to streak down your cheeks. What if you couldn't do this? What if the only reason you got the job was because of your looks? Tony Stark was known for his playboy ways...

No.

You'd gotten hired by Pepper Potts, there was no way that you were only hired for your looks. You were hired, because of your credentials. You'd worked hard to earn them, and you'd be damned before you weren't taken seriously.

"Handshake your fear." You whispered to yourself, remembering your therapy.

During your days in college, you'd decided to utilize the free counseling – after realizing that your parents kept you in a bubble, while you were living under their roof, and you had no idea how to be an adult. You'd gone to counseling, taken classes on life skills, and met new friends who had taught you how to be your own person.