𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒 ~ 𝐴𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠

Chapter 13 - Sweet Revenge

Warning: Descriptions of past trauma and mentions of killing/shooting. Very brief mention of blood. (Literally just the word 'bloody'.) 

Also, apologies ahead of time if the Russian translations are wrong! I know no Russian, so I used the Internet and I have no idea if it is correct or not!

~~~

After Steve told me the truth, I had gone to my room to change out of pyjamas and I threw on workout leggings and a quick-dry t-shirt with sleeves long enough to conceal my tattoo. 

In the trip from the patio to my room, I was able to blink away any tears before they escaped and almost all of my grief was over powered by pure rage. It took every ounce of self control to not punch a hole through the drywall. 

I found the training room with FRIDAY's help - it was strange talking to an A.I. like another human - and surprisingly the humongous room was unoccupied. The thing that caught my eyes above all the workout equipment though was a door on the far wall that read 'shooting range'.

'Perfect.'

Without hesitation, I beelined to the door, throwing it open to see a long, somewhat narrow room with target dummies on the opposite end and a gun rack beside me on the wall of the entrance. 

My eyes landed on the semi-auto glock and I put some extra magazines in my waistband followed by placing a pair of protective ear wear over my head to prevent my eardrums from exploding in the contained area. 

After I had loaded the pistol, I started releasing my anger on the training dummy, showing no mercy.

BANG! BANG BANG!

 Every shot hitting either the dummy's head or straight through where the heart would be.

I tossed the firearm from my right hand to my left, continuing to shoot flawlessly.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! 

My mind was so swallowed in anger that without realizing it, it started warping reality, deceiving  my eyes into believing the dummy was really HYDRA agents. 

However, that only fuelled the fire. Instead of standing down and refusing to kill them, my trigger finger became more aggressive as I narrowed my eyes on the victims of my bullets as I shot one after another between the eyes or through the heart, continuing to re-load the magazine gracefully in a matter of seconds whenever one emptied.

And the sickly thing was, I enjoyed the sweet, sweet taste of 'revenge.' 

~~~

When I had let as much anger out as I could at the shooting range, I had gone outside to the river so I wouldn't lash out and break something inside, not even bothering to change out of my sweaty clothes.

I sat on a rock under a willow tree that was bordering the river with my legs close to my chest, resting my chin on my knees as I blankly watched the ripples in the water.

I sat with disgust and disbelief that I had allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of killing. 

'Maybe it wasn't all The Winter Soldier in me killing all those years.' 

I tried to push that thought away as soon as it surfaced. I knew I didn't want to kill. I knew it wasn't me who killed all those people, it was the Winter Soldier in me. I want to help people like my parents did before HYDRA enslaved them. My mother helped heal people and my father worked on some big science project apparently that benefited a lot of people. However, I felt as if I should be ashamed to help people after all I had done. I caused so much hurt and problems, that would people ever trust me to help them?