Distressed // Steve Rogers

28 - Disappoint

Talia's chest burned. Every gasp for breath was a wave of fire that tore through her throat and scarred her lungs. She twisted and turned, desperate to escape. Desperate to survive. The grip only tightened and black spots swam in the recesses of her vision. She clawed, tearing at the skin of the arm that constricted around her throat, blood seeping where her fingers had been. Tears spilled. Gasps came hard and heavy. Her hands shook and her body began to go limp as the voice as cold as ice cut through the darkness that encroached on her.

"You are weak Talia. Nothing more than a disappointment."

The clicking of Madame B's heels echoed through the otherwise empty great hall and the man holding Talia as she choked on the absence of air dropped her to her knees. Her tears streamed as she crawled forwards, retching when her limbs gave way and she crumpled in on herself. She felt ice in her veins when Madame B's fingers wound through her hair and she was ripped from the floor, pulled to her feet as nails scraped against her skin. 

"A disappointment." Madame B spat the words at her as she held her face inches from her own. Talia jolted forwards as the sting of a snap sent electricity through her side and her spine jarred. Madame B let go as the man's fist connected with her side. 

This was her punishment. This was her hell. She had broken the rules. She had stepped out of line. She had risked them all with her exploration, her intrigue, her desire. The outside world was no place for girls like her. The outside world had pushed her away. It had chewed her up and spat her out and left her broken and alone. It had taken her family from her, left her with no one. She had been shattered time and time again. Her parents were gone. Her sister had abandoned her. 

This was her hell. 

This was her home.

*

His hands were gentle as he circled her, his fingers skimming the exposed slither of skin beneath her shirt, and her entire body stiffened. Her heart was in her throat and she swallowed her words. She had been successful and he had promised she would be rewarded but now? Now she wanted no reward. She wanted his hands to leave her skin and his breath to not leave warmth on the back of her neck. She wanted him to take a step away from her. She wanted to tear his hand from his wrist, to rip his arm from his body. She wanted to tear him apart and never feel him pressing too close, always too close.

She closed her eyes as he stopped behind her. She pushed her thoughts to the man she had seen tonight. His eyes had been so blue. His eyes had been so sad. She had passed, hidden in the darkness, as he swept through the open space and paused over the still warm body of the senator. She had been successful and now she felt... sadness? Guilt? Who was this man who made her feel so much pain?

"You did so well, Widow." Her handler's lips brushed her ear as he leant against her. The rules had been clear. She was not his, he was not to take her, she was their asset and she would be unsullied. She was not to be tarnished by connections and dalliances that threatened the cause. She was so painfully grateful for this rule. She was so excruciatingly afraid he would disregard it. "I want to reward you. Your first mission. You were so beautiful out there. So vengeful." He pulled her back a step so that she was pressed against him and she held down a sob. The Winter Widow would not show fear. "So powerful."

She didn't dare to speak.

His fingers skimmed the line of her jeans and bile rose in her throat. She screwed her eyes closed tighter. She thought of the ruffling blonde locks in the wind and the way the man had crouched down, his head in his hands as he cried for the dead. She imagined that when he had looked up, when his eyes had sparked with recognition and shock, he had seen her in the depths of night. She imagined she had known him. She imagined he would save her from this. But she did not know that man, and heroes saved princesses and hostages, not killers.