.2

9.5K 552 1K
                                    







a/n : here's another one to keep the ball rolling! enjoy!

please react, comment, and vote!


please react, comment, and vote!

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.




✯✯✯



SPENCER'S HEAD IS POUNDING.

It's nothing new.

It had been pounding for the previous, well... Spencer's not sure. When she thinks too much, there is a shock that ripples through her skull, burning her ears and eyes. Soldat says not to think too much. He says it helps with the pain.

He told her, it's the thing about HYDRA's brain games - they just haven't perfected it. Sometimes the shocks make her forget the past. Sometimes, it makes it hard to remember the present. All the time, it hurts to try to remember anything.

Her body is aching with exhaustion, but she uses what feels like the last of her energy to pry her eyes open, and it's like lifting weights under the weak muscles of her eyelids.

The room around her is not one she's familiar with. Over the last... well, as far back as she can remember, Spencer had visited a total of 6 rooms in the HYDRA facility. Her room. The training room. The medical room. The bathing room. The fighting courtyard. James' room.

James. That's what the Soldat had said his name was, anyway. He also told her that her name was "Spencer", and that he had learned it from the guards. Spencer wasn't convinced that he was convinced it was true, but it could not matter much. Names meant nothing. Soldat and Merzost.

No other names are necessary anymore.

This room wasn't any of those rooms, so Spencer scans it carefully. Her vision is fuzzy and distorted, and her eyes burn against the cool air. She suddenly realizes that there's something lurking in her peripheral vision.

"You're awake."

Spencer jumps - well, tries too. She was acutely aware she was sitting, and when she went to defend herself, she found resistance from her wrists - cuffs. The force shoves her back down. The chair shakes from the shift.

"Don't do that," a voice chides, and it sounds soft but almost a hiss. "You will hurt yourself more."

Spencer doesn't recognize the voice. It's not James' or Madam's or any of the officers she's been trained/experiments/tortured by. But still, it sends the networks in her brain firing, trying to finish the puzzle.

There's a sting in her head. It's sharp and electrifying, and Spencer winces. The pain makes her jolt, which tugs her already raw wrists against the sharp metal.

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨  ➪ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧 (2)Where stories live. Discover now