Pictures

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by Ellabella0709

by Ellabella0709

I picked up the ripped portrait photos on the table and pulled the one of my brother from my pocket. Why was this so hard for me yet Steve seems only mildly disturbed. I was usually the strongest, comfortable with anything. I'm not going to let some old objects in a box faze me.
"This", I started putting the pieces of Madam B back together, "is Madam B she was my director. And you know who Ivan is. They're the people who made me a monster."
"You're not a monster."
"Yes I am."
"No." Steve said firmer. "You're not" I scoffed, what did he know, he's only known me as a Avenger.
"You wanna know why? Because I love you. Do you think I could love someone who was truly a monster."
"You're a fool." He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off with a glare.
"You're not." He said again softer, barely louder than a whisper. I gave up on arguing and moved on to the pointe shoes.

I picked them up and examined them before speaking. "These where my first pair of pointe shoes, they're what a ballerina wears when the-"
"Yeah I know that they-"
"Yeah", we both looked at each other and smiled softly. Steve's eyebrows furrowed together like he was trying to remember something.
"You never mentioned you where a ballerina." I hadn't mentioned I practiced at the best ballet academy in the world either. "Do you still dance."
"Yes, quite often actually."
"How have I never noticed?"
"There's a lot of things you haven't noticed Rogers." I gave a half hearted smile, more of a plea for help than a genuine smile. He didn't notice.

I scratched at some of blood before shifting my hold on them and banging them on the table. They gave a muffled thud thud thud. "The box is soft and the shank is flimsy there's no use left in them."
"huh?" I scoffed at my pleasing answer.
"They're worn out, you wouldn't be able to stand en pointe in them."
"Oh. Is that blood."
"Hhmm? Oh, yeah. We, uhhh... kinda had to fight in them as well as practice."
"How?" I just shrugged.

I picked up the four photos. The first one was a picture of a packed fancily decorated Theater with a large stage a young red head danced at the center of the stage. I remembered it as one of my best performances. I carefully set it to my left by the pair of pointe shoes.
"Is that you?"
I hummed in response as I analyzed the photo that sat in my hand. It was a picture of 28 young girls, had to be around 11 years old. Before we started killing each other. We wore dark blue leotards with white leggings and pointe shoes and hair up in tight buns. We stood in front of a mirrored wall with a wooden rod in front. We where in a ballet studio. The eeriest thing about the photo is that no photographer or camera appeared in the mirrors. I placed the photo on top of the other to my left.

Things got a lot worse from there on out.

The next photo was of me I had to be around 13-14 I was covered in blood, cuts and bruises , naked, curled up on the floor in a pool of my own blood.
"Oh my god." His voice was barely a whisper but I could still detect the distress.
"It's not the worst." I meant to be reassuring bit it ended more scared. I quickly set the photo on the table to my right instead and looked at the next one in my hand.

It was a blood bath. There where two girls surrounded by bodies, old and young boys and girls. They where all grisly murdered. In the middle of it the two girls where back to back, a red head and a blonde. The girls where me and Yelena. We where almost completely unharmed. Yelena welded a knife and I had only my body to inflict pain. Steve didn't even say anything, he just looked at me with horror on his face and slowly pulled me into a hug.
"oh my god." Was all I heard as I set the photo face down in the other one to my right.