APODEMIA ➣ ||P. PARKER||

•chapter twenty one•

one month later
November

• • • • • • •
-a dream-

I stared longingly into the night that drapes over me like how a soft blanket would, it felt like the happiness that would cloud my head when mom would tuck me into bed. She'd sing a song to lure me into sleep, a lullaby that I could barely remember now.

The chilly breeze that smooths the heat admitting from me, and I brushed my hair that had wet streaks of sweat, closing my eyes to take in the silence and opened them to see the truth.

I hated this dream, and I wanted to get out of it.

A gritty and aged voice of a man spoke with malice, "December-"

It sounded so familiar that my mind almost went blank at the word. It was said like it had some sort of significance.

"-Simplicity-"

This was getting annoying or rather triggering.

"-Ink-"

Shut up.

"-Butterfly." They stated with determination, but it didn't sound like they were finished.

I close my eyes once again, pretending not to hear them because I didn't want to be controlled. Those words they said were of pure poison, those trigger words should be damned to hell.

I only wanted to feel the bright moonlight radiating off of my face, basking me in the never-ending glow.

"Get her!" A glitchy and out of tune voice that fades at the end of a broken record.

"I need a backup- now!"

"Send in the guards, she's unstable!"

I awake on the cold concrete road of a highway on the side of a steep cliff, wondering why anyone would even dare to drive on this predictable disaster. I remind myself that all this is a dream, but it was nothing more than a reminder.

I stood up with curiosity, looking around before seeing a silhouette sitting on the ledge of the cliff behind the safety rails.

He was illuminated by the moonlight, it made me seem different- he was special.

He wasn't afraid.

He was just like me, but more fortunate.

"Theo...? Theodore?" I called out his real name, not the Asset Nine, which is what HYDRA deemed him by.

Theodore turned his head around to face me, his black mask was pulled up to his nose, thick-rimmed goggles hiding his saddened gaze, even behind his mask I could tell he was giving me an inviting smile.

He was filled with guilt, too much of it, too much that it's overflowing in his heart.

I blinked and then I was sitting on the ledge next to him, my hand clasped in his as we stared into the blood moon, both of us afraid of what the future might bring.

"We can run away together, we can be free!" he was young, just like I was, he was the same seven-year-old boy that was planted in my memories. We were both too young for our age to be doing what can't even be comprehended by the adult mind.

We were just eight and finished with all of our training, we were young, we didn't deserve any part of this hellhole.

I felt sorry for him more than I felt sorry for myself.