TWENTY SEVEN

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The car was driving for while, bumps and rocky road made her feel sick. She could feel the blood spilling out of her shoulder and the pressure in her rib cage made it impossible to catch her breath.

Mila was alone in this truck with closed off windows and no supervision. She had no idea where Nat, Steve or Sam were and it worried her. Had Hydra caught up to her and took her friends prisoner because of her?

Intrusive thoughts invaded her mind and she hated it. They were going to punish her, beat her, do everything in their power to make her hurt.

But she would see her papa again. Would he be mad at her? Would he be happy to see her? She had fought him off from attacking Natasha. Would he even remember her?

Her thoughts diminished as the truck came to a halt, rocking her forward in her seat. Mila let out a wince of pain as her body folded inwards, her rib poking her again. Bright lights blinded her slightly as the car door opened. She tried to block to sunlight with her hands but the cuffs restricted her, as well she any movement in her shoulder from the bullet wound.

"Come on kid, out you get," an angry voice growled at her. Mila felt the back of the truck tip slightly as two pairs of hands clasped around her biceps, seizing her as they dragged her out the back. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the sunlight and took in a deep breath of fresh air. The ground beneath her feet felt funny, her toes stretching around in her shoes. How long had it really been since the fight on the bridge?

The two soldiers whose grips around her grew tighter, pulled her out from the sunlight and into a caged door, any light still shining was snuffed out as soon as the door shut behind her. Her feet scuffed along the marble floor of the abandoned bank Hydra bided their time in. Her heart pounded in he chest, picking up speed the closer they got to the voices that echoed throughout the old building.

As they made it to the end of a hallway, Mila turned her head to the left slightly and through a wall of soldiers and metal bars, she spotted her papa, sitting in a chair. She thrashed in the guards arms, ignoring the searing pain that spread through her body like flames. "Papa! Papa," she screamed trying to catch his attention. He looked up suddenly, straining his neck to peer over the guards.

"Mila?" He tried to stand but two soldiers pushed him back. Mila squirmed out of the soldiers grasp, heading for the door which stood between her and her papa.

"Papa!" Her voice was muffled as a cold hand placed itself over her mouth. She felt a burst of pain flood her stomach as a fist hit her ribs. Mila let out a cry of pain as she was tossed over a soldiers back and carried down the opposite hallway. Her papa's voice growing distance as she swung away from him.

Down a long, dark hallway, Mila was dragged into a room with a man in a white lab coat.  The soldier dropped her onto the floor, looked directly at the man and said, "Fix her up quickly, we need her back before he gets here".

Mila could still feel her heart in her stomach, pounding against her navel, making her want to hurl.

Cold, clammy hands caressed her shoulder, tweezers pulled at her skin as the doctor attempted to remove the bullet from her shoulder. A bandage had been wrapped around her torso, there wasn't much you could do for a broken rib.

She felt exposed, uncomfortable and nervous. Natasha had told her that this was bad, she couldn't see how at first. The doctor was just doing his job right? Stitching her up
and making sure she healed properly. But was it the doctors job to stare at her like she was a piece of meat? Let his hand linger a little longer than normal on her collarbone?

With her black long sleeve shirt removed and on the table beside her, the black sports bra she had made to tight pinched her skin, the bandage around her torso and a pair of black leggings on, Mila blocked out as much as she could around her. Blinking back the tears, from the pain and the uncomfortably, she waited until she was able to leave to see her papa.

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