"If you do that again, I'll throw you off this bloody tower you - what on earth are you doing?"
"Checking how high the drop is, see if it's worth it."
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Florence Ophelia Stark was known to be a kind hea...
WARNING - Explicit detail of torture. Mentions of rape.
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Valley of Geysers - Russia - Unknown Hydra Base
Darkness cascaded the room. The bitterly cold wind howled through the gaps in the wall. Shadows danced on the walls like ballerinas pirouetting to their deaths. Fallen angles of Lucifer's army. Ready to steal the souls in the dead of the night. The distressing putrid smell of moulding copper blood strangles her senses.
Her mind ran wild with agitation and trepidation of the unknown future. The filthy walls seemed to close in on her causing panic to fill her system. However, action refused to comprehend in her brain. The benumbed, grubby chains around her ankles and arms weighed her down. Compelling her to scream for help from anyone, anywhere. Her fate was set in stone.
Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper, all she wanted was something to drink. She didn't even know how long she had been there. Days. Week. Months.
She remembered the day Hydra had stolen her from her home in Stark Tower. The avengers had been out on a mission. Pepper, her mum, was in a business conference. She had been left at home to prepare for training tomorrow. Her uncle Nick Furry had been coming to collect her late that evening.
She had heard the shattering of glass. The heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway. Her heart had leapt out her chest. She knew what her father had told her, but it didn't seem to comprehend. Her mind had gone blank.
She had hidden in an air vent waiting to see what would happen when she had felt an arm grip onto her from behind. Dragging her down the vent to the opening. She had been ready to fight back. To run as fast as she could. But as soon they were out a sharp pain had pinched her neck and everything had gone black and blurry.
When she had woken up here. In a disgusting cell she had screamed for hours, banging her fists on the door. Threating promises of pain and death to come. And then when her fists were covered in blood and her voice no longer apparent, she had cried. Silent tears. Hoping for her father to show up and save the day. But he wasn't going to. No one was. She was alone.
Now, however many days later, she spent her time imaging what might happen. Who might be holding her capture? Her father had a lot of enemies after all.
The rumble of the heavy, steel door was what awakened her thoughts. She looked up to see three nameless faces of hatred staring at her. A grim smile of what must have been the ringleader.
" Мисс Старк, я надеюсь, вы довольны своим размещением." (Miss Stark, I hope your happy with your accommodation.) The one with the greasy blonde hair sniggered as he said this. Laughing at her pain.
"Get fucked you bastard. I have no clue what you're saying to me right now."
