Outsider

Six

"Elissa? Are you awake?"

I shut my eyes tighter, trying to make the pain go away.  My stomach hurt, it felt like every inch of my organs were burning slowly and painfully.  Nothing I did made the pain stop, it never ceased from the time Rumlow stopped stabbing me with the torturous stick to the time two men threw me in a cell and locked the door.  I couldn't move, I couldn't think straight- all I wanted was to die.  Then, I could see Mama and Papa, and then I would be happy. 

But, a voice was calling me.  

It sounded familiar, but in my delirious state I couldn't match a name to the voice.  However, I knew I could trust whoever it belonged to.  I opened my eyes slowly and saw a boy sitting on the ground beside me.  Instantly, I knew.  "Oliver," I said, offering a small smile.

Oliver smiled back.  "I brought you some dinner. It's not much, but-"

I eyed the porridge and bread placed on the ground in between us, and like a wild beast I grabbed it and shovelled it by handfuls in my mouth.  I didn't care that the bread was stale or that the porridge had fleas on it- it was food.  As I filled my stomach, the pain finally began to cease, and I took a look at my surroundings.  There was a cot placed along the right wall of the cell, and a toilet and sink on the left side.  I noticed that this time the cell had a more easily accessible window, only a couple of feet away from us.  But, the thing I noticed most is what Oliver really looked like.  

He was extremely pale, as if the sun never kissed his hollow cheeks. On top of his head was a mop of dark brown hair, knotted and dirty. Greyish bags sagged under a pair of bright blue eyes. But, those blue eyes sparkled and were filled with light and happiness. If you looked at just those blue eyes, you would never guess the amount of pain he endured in his time on this world.  Yet, because of my young age, I was a bit horrified to see a boy, skinny as a rake, sitting in front of me.  I remembered what I looked like when I saw my reflection, and I knew my body was slowly undergoing its transformation into becoming someone like him.   I need to get out of here, I thought.  And to start, I would have to escape this cell.  But, as I stood up, a stinging sensation rose to my head and my vision clouded with dots.  I collapsed to the floor.

 Oliver quickly placed one of his thin hands behind my back and helped me sit up.  Clutching my head, I choked, "Why?  Why did they hurt me?"

"They do stuff like that to everyone," Oliver explained. "It's like an initiation."

"They hurt you too?" 

With a sad nod, Oliver sighed and rolled up his shirt.  On his pale chest there was a mass of red slashes streaking down his back and his stomach.  They were red and flaring, obviously uncared for.  It looked like some sort of animal had grabbed Oliver and attemptd to rip him to pieces.  Finally Oliver said, "In a different way, yes. They hurt me." And in a split second, he quickly rolled down his shirt and roughly tugged at it, as if he wanted to make sure it stayed down. 

To think that just a few weeks ago my life was perfect was a very hard task.  Papa was dead, what was I to do?  "I didn't even get to bury him," I whispered.

"What?"

I looked at Oliver with glassy eyes.  "I didn't get to bury Papa," I said louder, "Why am I such a bad daughter?"  And, as my voice shook I added, "I'm responsible for his death!"

Oliver shook his head and asked, "Were you the one who pulled the trigger on the gun that killed your father?"

"No, but-"

"Exactly.   You didn't choose this, you didn't want this, it's not your fault." Oliver said defiantly.

I wiped my running nose and eyes.  I found what Oliver said hard to believe.  How could I be sure that the circumstances would be different if I had just stayed in the tunnel and let Papa fend off Hydra?  I was a disobedient child, a brat, and I deserved the pain Hydra bestowed upon me.  I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them so I was in the shape of a little ball.  Oliver gazed at me uncertainly.  After a long pause, I asked, "The man with the metal arm, is he in charge?"

Oliver frowned as if he tasted something bad, but replied, "No, he comes and goes. You can go months without seeing a glimpse of him.  The man in charge is Alexander Pierce- I believe you met him."

Without even knowing, I said, "I did meet him."  He was the man who knew Papa, yet still decided to kill him.  In other words, Alexander Pierce was evil.  Oliver merely nodded, face terror stricken. But, I continued to probe further. I wanted a name for the demon who killed my Papa. Something to remember him by. "The man who killed my father," I inquired, "Is the one with a metal arm?"

Oliver's face was petrified for a split second. It was a way worse reaction than what the head of this HYDRA bunker, Alexander Pierce, brought out of him.  Then, he said in a very audible voice, "Correct,"

"Who is he?"

This murderer must have done something truly awful to Oliver to make him like this. Oliver swallowed and blinked rapidly. For a second, it looked like he would start crying.  "The man," he began, each word barely a whisper. "The man," Oliver repeated, as if he didn't know any other words. Finally, he said slowly, dragging each word coldly:

"They call him the Winter Soldier."