𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑, avengers [discontinued]

33

ᴸᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵃˢᵗ
ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵒᵘᵗᵗᵃ ᵖˡᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ, ᶠᵃᵏᵉ

⊱ ──── 《∘◦●◦∘》 ──── ⊰

When golden eyes opened, a glare was directed at the agents in front of her as they tugged her onto her feet, interrupting the short nap she was having.

It wasn't like she was having the dream of her life, of course, but didn't take the five hours she usually got of sleep for granted in no way possible.

And of course, it was going to be one of those days. They tried and would make her look a bit more presentable without really giving the idea that her face was going to be seen by anyone.

A fake sense of security and humbleness was given to her. They would wash her hair. If it was too long, the would trim it down to her neck before letting her bathe, but it didn't change the fact that she still felt dirty with or without a shower. The horror of some of the things she'd done still clung to her skin.

''How long has it been?" she asked as she walked down one of the halls with the agents surrounding her, flinching at how hoarse and foreign her voice sounded. At this point, the grey, dark and gloomy walls were morphed into something of a false luxury.

She wasn't surprised when none of them had replied to her, but it didn't suppress her anger towards them at all.

She found herself in a haze with the cryogenic temperatures they had her in. She wasn't asleep, per se, but frozen while awake. Days, weeks, or months would pass and she wouldn't even be able to tell.

Dressed in slightly more layers put her in a vulnerable state. It made her feel warm and tired, and less alert rather than when she was in frigid temperatures. Why did they even do this? It felt worse than torture.

A cycle of tricks that kept roping her in, but cutting her off each time when she was so close.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason that she was kept here. She had more use. Not at all to preserve the sanity that she still had left to keep her under control, but to control a beast that they originally didn't have control over.

She was snapped out her thoughts as the doors of her 'room' opened. Even from the doorway, she stood a few inches away from, she could sense the tranquility that radiated from it, the smell of essential oils in the air.

They gave her a push forward, making her shoot daggers at them, but walked in nonetheless, even flinching when the doors closed behind her. It wasn't like the metal doors to the cell she was in, but wooden doors that she could easily break out of, but they knew she wouldn't do so.

Eyes darted around the room. They changed it each time. Was it because they didn't want her to be familiar with it? Still, they kept the same reddish-leather seat in the center next to a nightstand.