EVERMORE ─ marvel ⁷

VIII. Love Over Hate

Chapter Eight
Soroya

It's just how I remember it. I'm in my old living room, before it was littered with olive wallpaper and ceramic cats. The original ugly curtains are swaying behind me, the sun bleeding in through the blinds making the room feel warm and cozy. I'm on the pink couch, the coffee table with old records scattered on top of it right in front of me. On the other side of the coffee table, in Papa's old chair, is a mirror image of myself, chained up, a simmering expression on her face. It's the Savage. Even chained up she holds herself up with a lot of swagger and confidence. She's leaned back in the chair, her legs spread, her arms resting on the arms of the chair, her fingers taping on the edges.

The Savage clicks her tongue and drawls: "Soroya. At last we meet."

I feel my breath catch in my chest, feel my heart rate beat so loudly I can hear it. The Savage can too, it makes her dark expression lighten ever so slightly, taking pleasure in my fear. She's fueled by it, lives for it.

"You've been a busy woman the past few weeks, Director Roberts," She continues, disgust in her tone as she says my new title. "Oh the funeral was lovely by the way, it's a shame I couldn't have been there. I would have loved to see that pathetic dog be buried in the ground where he belongs."

"Don't you dare talk about John like that!" I shout, my fists curling up at my sides as I stand up.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think you cared about him. You've had no problem dismissing his feelings these past twenty three years, I'm surprised you're as upset as you are. You should be thanking me. You no longer have a sniveling lap dog chasing after you, though I don't know why he desired you so much in the first place. You're a waste of potential and talent. I on the other hand, I could have given him a life of freedom, of pleasure, but he was too wrapped around your finger."

She almost sounds jealous, almost. I try to ignore her hurtful words, taking a step away from the couch and towards her, her amusement only increasing as she sees my anger and pain.

"It's so sad," She says with a pouty lip. "You came here to stand up to me, to scream at me, to tell me you hate me but you can't. All that power, all that training, you could make anyone bend to your will, you could conquer countries singlehandedly, but you don't. You galavant around the world spouting speeches about hope, molding others to be copies of you, turning once great warriors into pointless mutts. You walk this earth as if you're morally superior to everyone and yet people adore you. Why is that?"

Her question startles me. "What do you mean?"

"HYDRA, the people who created me, didn't want me, they wanted you. They trained you to shove me aside, to trap me, to take away any freedom I had and use my abilities. I've been a prisoner for as long as I can remember and it's your fault. HYDRA, the Avengers, my kids, my brother, John, the world, they all prefer you. What's so special about you? What is it about these pointless hope speeches and moral superiority that makes you so desired by everyone you meet? I'm looking at you now and I don't see much, just a prissy little girl who gets more than she deserves."

She is jealous of me. I didn't even think of this before, but it makes sense. She's right, HYDRA did pick me over her. With Alex, they wanted the animal to stay in control, but they wanted me trained to control the animal from the moment I got my powers. It must have been hard, to be created and immediately thrown into a mental prison, with no understanding of why you were created or why your creators deem you lesser than the other personality housed in your mind.