"Screw it."
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If sixteen year old Daya knew her world would be turned upside down once her life got twisted in with the Avengers, she would have ran for the hills. With her long forgotten memories surfacing more and mor...
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Daya
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"I got her out- Yes, she's right beside me- I think I gave them the slip..."
That voice... I remember that voice...
"I'm here in Bucharest now. No sign of them as yet... no sign of him."
The scene materialized in front of my eyes like a home movie. My small being had grasped the memory so clearly that I remembered the smell of the air.
It was the airport. One of the earliest memories of my mother and I. It was busy, teeming with sweaty travelers wearing oversized coats and double layers. But another smell of coffee or hot chocolate filled the air as soft Christmas music jingled above everyone's heads in the speakers.
It was winter after all.
My little hand clutched hers - or maybe it was the other way round - as we waited off to the side near a bathroom, distancing ourselves from the people and having a perfect spot to see every angle. She was on the phone with someone, but I had no clue who was on the other end. And at that time, I was freshly wiped of all memories, meaning I didn't know what she was talking into nor all the technology and crowds of people speed walking from Terminal to Terminal.
I stared at everything and everyone as my hand held firmly in hers. My big, blue, doe eyes studied everything and anything as my brain calculated what they might've been.
Fabric box with zippers and wheels... a suitcase.
Tiny rectangle next to an angry man's ear... a cell phone.
Brown fluffy thing with beady eyes... a teddy bear. I found out after a little boy screamed and pointed at one by the stall across from us.
I studied everyone as well. The old couple sharing a drink by a few waiting benches. The formally dressed business lady with short brown hair talking into a strange-looking phone in her ear- a wireless earpiece. The tall man reading a newspaper by a vendor's stand.
I didn't know why my eyes stuck to this man like glue, but the way his brown hair fell to his shoulders and pale skin reminded me of the man we escaped from just hours prior -my father- got me on edge. He was back on to us at most moments, until he turned at an angle that allowed him to look in our general vicinity. His face was clean shaven and he wore a smile, a dead giveaway that he wasn't who I thought it was... or who I felt it was.
An unsettling feeling of déjà vu washed over me and my free hand went to cradle my forehead.
"I'll meet you there - hold on - Darya what's wrong?" My mother asked calmly after putting the caller on hold, noticing I had held my head in my hand.
