"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚
𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙮𝙨
𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧."
1974, a year of progression for the feminist movement in santa monica and all because of one evette green, daughter to the city's f...
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Saturday 10th August 1974 - 11:34pm
— EVETTE WAS UNCERTAIN what to do with this valuable time as it could be the only time for awhile she wasn't in a necessarily hostile environment. Sure it wasn't exactly peaceful but considering all that could be happening to her, she was grateful. Not that that helped her dilemma. In the back of her mind she wanted to waste this boring day of doing nothing in this stupid house before her fate became uncertain. On the other hand, she also felt so compelled to do something that she had never done before: something that strayed from her somewhat-conservative image (apart from the whole protesting agenda obviously).
The soldier had been absent since her refusal to kill him for her freedom, which, deep down she regretted in some way. If she had just shot him in the leg or something then she would've been out of here in no time.
However, learning of the nature of his current predicament drew him with a different shade of pencil.
Free will should be a given and not an option, but to have it so easily stripped from a human being who had their own emotions, thoughts and beliefs to represent was one of Evette's biggest fears. Now she was empathising with someone facing the repercussions of the process itself.
The girl had rested her eyes for only a few moments before the screaming started, the masculine grit of his voice couldn't be mistaken for anyone other then her kidnapper and she stood to attention and ran to the source. The metal-armed man was lain across the sofa, his eyes shut tight but his mouth wide open projecting an abundance of fear in a singular noise. She was unsure as to what to do, knowing that he was experiencing a night terror of some form and the response to which she had never been made clear on.
Was she to attempt to wake him or leave him to wake up himself?
She questioned for a second too long she decided, and made a decision to wake him up, despite knowing that it could result in carnage, but his screams were so horrid to listen to she couldn't bear it for much longer. Evette slowly made her way towards him with caution, unsure whether his arms would fling about but they seemed to stay still apart form his clenching fists. "Hey?" She said, gently at first when there was a brief window of quiet in the soldier whimpers that replaced the yells of pain. "Hey!" She raised her voice to try as capture his attention more sternly but no progress was made. Evette stood up straight and hurried along to the kitchen, grabbing a tall glass and filling it with cold water.
She scurried back with the full pitcher and counted to three before stepping back and throwing the water over the soldiers face, who sprung up into action, not caring for the cold refreshment now glazing his upper body and flowing down his trousers. He leaned toward her and grabbed her by the throat with his flesh-coated hand, slamming her into the chair and watching her struggle beneath his grip. "Stop." She muttered in a hoarse voice and it was like a light was switched on in replacement for the utter gloom. He dropped her completely and her body became limp as she coughed and spluttered into the softness of the chair that offered no comfort to her.
The soldier stumbled back and fell onto the table where Evette had dropped the glass she had used to wake him. It tumbled over and the remainder of the water trickled onto the carpet, darkening its beige colour into a moth-like cream. "I-..." he looked at her as she stumbled to the floor, attempting to regain her breath back. "I'm sorry." Evette didn't reply, not because she didn't want to, trust me she had the right mind to break down his mind further from the crumbs it was already in, but instead waved her hands in dismissal because her throat would not allow any speaking to occur while she could barely make noise that wasn't a wheeze.
The soldier looked around lost, he felt disconnected and unfamiliar with reality again, unsure whether this was a dreamscape or real life.
What did it matter anyway?
He had no control over either.
The Winter Soldier stared down at the girl, disengaged in what was actually happening before the noise inside his head (that he hadn't even noticed until then and was only comparable to a continuous sweeping of air) stopped as he darted his eyes to her face that were now staring at him. All the noise stopped in his head for one moment and it felt as if peace had come before the armistice was signed. Her brown eyes held fury but a layer beneath that was simply mesmerising, it was empathy and warmth and emotion. Before he had to the chance to commend her completely whilst in his trance, he was kicked in the groin so hard he keeled over and fell to the floor, now joining the very woman he had been admiring. "You... fucking... asshole." She managed to cough out before choking once again on her own voice. The soldier felt no pain after 20 seconds or so but stayed on the ground, well aware of the purpose of the kick and didn't want to take the satisfaction of that away from his captive.
"I'm sorry... my nightmares-..." he didn't have a second to finish before she stood and stumbled back to her bedroom, not caring to hear from the man she felt like had stabbed her in the back. Here he was earlier, offering her his life for her freedom and the next thing she knows he's choking her while staring right into her eyes.
And all he can say is 'sorry' in that emotionless psycho-style voice of his?
She stopped at the door and turned back to him, he was still on the floor and only now he had sat up to place his head in his hands to contemplate over the entire altercation. He didn't know what to say, unsure of what would make her angry. He didn't like it when people were angry, he had only suffered when he made the people he knew angry and had no desire to do the same to her, even if he was in the superior position. "I know you're messed up," cough "but you don't have to take it out on the first person you see."
She shut the door without another word or thought to the man, instead deciding to investigate her throat in the bathroom and sure enough the engraved shape of his hand around her throat could almost pass as a tattoo because of the bruising effect. It hurt to the touch and it still burned raw on the inside, her vocal cords felt as if they hand been squeezed and twisted by a wrench down her throat and the only way to untangle them was to amputate her head altogether. Because of the distraction, Evette struggled to keep the spirits at bay, the voices of the dead echoing throughout her mind freely and without any defence to stop them mentally all she could do was make noise physically to cover them.
