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Four

The next morning Matt arrived with a surprise. He was going to take me to his home! This time I wouldn't have to say goodbye to Trish, Tobias, and Jasmine; they were a fifteen minute walk away. God, maybe I could live happily.  My items were packed quickly, and we soon arrived at a quaint townhouse in the suburbs. The inside was narrow, but so cozy. A little girl with bouncy red curls played quietly with a doll in the corner of the kitchen. 

"This is Rose," Matt said, gesturing to the girl.  "My kid sister," 

Rose stood up and smiled shyly at me.  Her eyes were a meadow green, bright but serene and with hints of gold.  I also noticed she had some bruises across her arms, and her doll was smushed in the face.  "She's a bit rough when she plays," Matt mouthed to me, and I nodded slowly.  Rose still looked so bright and innocent, though.  There was not a trace of lingering trauma from the time Rumlow had his men kidnap her, the medication did its trick.  I was glad- her innocence was preserved.  Matt was still unaware of the deal with Rumlow, I felt that he would be furious if he knew; he was very protective in some ways.

Of course with a new life came a new identity.  From now on, on the streets I would be known as 'Mary Hunt.'  In private I was still addressed as Sarah, but never Elissa.  Elissa was dead.

Life stayed content for the first three weeks.  Tobias had taken over the main management at Crimson Night, while Trish took a break.  She spoke virtually nothing, and spent most of her days on the couch.  It was awful to see her reduced to quiet and composed when she used to be so bright and bold.  

On the other hand, I was burying my emotions with drinks and Criz.  My suicide attempt felt like a distant memory when I drank, it was cool to tell fellow Crimson Night members that I survived a plunge into the Manhattan River.  Whenever phantom pain occurred at night, Criz concealed it.

The fight.  A million things started it, and only one thing ended it.  Watching Matt interact with Rose was like watching childhood me be abused by Hydra- the manner was aggressive.  Every time she got underfoot, or interrupted or disobeyed Matt, a series of insults were rattled at her.  

"Can't you ever listen, bitch?  Jesus, you're such a pain!"

Just.  Like.  Hydra.

Alcohol always fuels fights, and that one night I was drunk.  Drinking gave me adrenaline, and I felt somewhat invincible at the time.  I only regret not joining in sooner.  Rose had gotten in trouble for staying up past her bedtime, Matt was a red hot fireball.  Both their fiery heads were reared at each other, and Matt shouted, "Rose, I have to look after you!  Our parents are dead, you have to listen to me you stupid bitch!"

"I couldn't sleep, Matt!  I'm sorry!" cried Rose.

Then, the unthinkable happened:  Matt hit her.  A slap across the face sent Rose tumbling to the ground, but he continued shouting as if nothing had ever happened.  "All you do is cause trouble.  I hate you, but I can't live if you die!"

Rose bawled piteously, and Matt raised his fist again.

Only, mine blocked it.  His quivering fist was locked in my outstretched hand.  There's no excuse, nobody should hit a child.  A red hot rage pulsed through my veins, my eyes were daggers.  With a voice like ice, I said to him, "Don't you ever fucking touch her again."

Matt turned on me.  

And for what felt like hours, Matt fought me.  Maybe it was hours, or maybe it was seconds; I didn't know, I just felt nauseous.  Punches pummelled my face until it was bloodied, black and blue.  Kicks were swung at my legs so that I was left on the floor crawling.  What was broken from my jump became shattered.  The house became a wreck as I scrambled for things to use as a defense.  Plates were smashed over his head, I stabbed Matt with a fork, and even tried splashing bleach against his skin.  Rose screamed until she grew hoarse, hitting both of us wildly.  I was crying, Matt was crying too.  God, I didn't know why I was crying- this wasn't the worst pain I've been in.  I just loved Matt, and I trusted that he would never lay a hand on me again. 

Eventually we moved upstairs, towards my bedroom.  I generated an idea, and flung myself onto the bed.  Underneath my pillow I found my knife, and thrust it at Matt's throat.  Blood seeped through my teeth and I grinned my crooked grin, Matt was stunned with terror.  My hand lay ready to make its kill, but I saw Rose.  "You monster!" she cried, "You monster!"

"You evil son of a bitch!" I screeched, my voice lost in the howling wind.

I wasn't looking at Rose, I was looking at myself.  I couldn't take the one person she loved, even if he was horrid to her.  Numbly, I grabbed my knife and staggered out of the house.  

Left with nowehere to go, I just kept pushing my broken body forward.  October showers set in, the rain mixing with my tears.  I wished I had died in the river.  Whoever pulled me out wasn't doing me any favours.  I gave up, collapsing in an alleway and staring blankly at the brick wall in front of me.

I made no movement as a light was shone in my face.  Someone with blue eyes was looking at me, but I made no movement.  He offered me his metal hand, but I still made no movement.

Metal hand?