𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄 ☁︎︎ 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴

- escape plan -

—☁︎︎—

Evette

Saturday 10th August 1974 - 5:02am

— THE PLAN WAS IN MOTION and after a successful distraction from Hodge, it was now only my position in the plan that I could fuck up. Granted I had a mean right hook but I had never actually used it, violence wasn't in the ledger of my philosophy. I grabbed the lampshade and unplugged it from the wall before gently opening the door to the main room and seeing Hodge, with all his might, move the salt shaker across the table to distract the soldier. Somehow, I managed to sneak up behind him and slam the glass shade over his head.

He fell to the ground and I wasted no time in rushing out of the room and down the stairs of the house, swinging the door open and running out into the sunrise of Santa Monica. I took a left and bolted for it, my feet barely managing to carry me and my arms cold from the sea breeze. I smiled and almost laughed as I ran along the side of the road into town and towards the police station before I was slammed into the wall and my throat was gripped like a crowbar.
"You shouldn't have done that." He said before throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me back. I slammed my fists in to his back and screamed as loudly as I could but nothing seemed to phase him and no one was awake to hear me struggle.

I found myself back in the room and being slammed onto the bed.
"Get off me!" I screamed and he grabbed my wrists and stared into my eyes as if he was withdrawing from reality because of them.
"You will live longer if you don't resist." He said in Russian, his voice wasn't aggressive, but he spoke from experience. I stopped struggling and just stared up at him as he buckled my hands back to the bed, obviously realising he couldn't trust me at all.
"You speak from experience?" He paused for a moment before continuing on silently. "I know who you're working for, I know, don't pretend." He didn't reply, that stony scowl once again appearing on his face. His hair had glass particles in it but apart from that, there was no trace of ever having an injury.

This guy was really terrifying but there was so something so tragic about him too, he felt robotic, so compelled by his controller to never do as he pleased and only do as he was told. I found it hard to believe he could've been afraid of them, I mean, he seems to handle himself well physically. Mentally? I wasn't so sure.
"Hydra." I said and he turned and punched the wall with his metal arm, leaving not just a dent, but a new entry way for the next room, which was a bathroom by the looks of it.

"What's with you?!" I yelled, that was a perfectly good wall and what if he hurt his arm. "You work for them."

"Talk again and I will cut out your tongue."

This was cause enough for me to silence myself and before giving me one last glance, he left the room. That glance somehow told me everything and my mind was absorbing all this information that could be false or true. The idea of him being a human experiment was likely, he was well-trained for sure, but seemed highly unstable. If punching a wall from the mere mention of the organisation he serves doesn't mean he has some issues with them, I don't know what would convince you. The way his eyes glided across to my own, they seemed so empty from seeing and undoubtedly experiencing the horrors of Hydra. I didn't have to have a psychology degree to know this "guy with the metal arm" had some issues for certain. If he wasn't suffering from some sort of mental health crisis then I might as well put my fist through the wall too. 

His eyes, those steely blue eyes, that didn't at all remind me of the Santa Monica sea but perhaps it reminded me of an old book my mother always carried around with her named 'The Blue Book of Incantations'. It had a lock on the side of it, impossible to open without a specific method that my mother never told me of, most likely because this book held some dirty psychic secrets or something. But this book reminded me a lot of the mans eyes, locked and incapable of opening with just a key but the title told you what you needed to know. The front cover was clean and perfectly wrapped in stained leather but the inside was a complete enigma to me, despite the thoughts I could conjure from the title alone.

The ceiling suddenly became all the more interesting and before I knew it I was crying, quietly, without any blubbering, but I was certainly weeping. This predicament had caught me off guard. At the current moment in time, before all of this, I was fairly happy, perhaps until a week ago where I was on edge since the incident but I was finally comfortable in life and now nothing will ever be the same.

I knew I wasn't getting out of this.

I had my chance and I did my best but it wasn't enough, not through anyone's fault but my own. The resentment I once held for myself was returning with every waking second as here I lay not doing anything apart from crying in defeat. Defeat isn't in my nature, losing is far too difficult for me, I have to prevail to have peace of mind because I know that when I win, justice prevails. Perhaps that's me naively believing I'm always right, but it's also me believing that my opinions take the moral high ground over money, business or fame in any context. This entire circumstance felt so wrong that it made my skin itch, it made my eyes water unnaturally and it made me desperately anxious. I shut my eyes and tilted my head back into the pillow as I heard a creak stemming from the doorway.

"You'll be here for another two days."

That's all he said, with no offer of an explanation, before leaving once again.