I walked further down the hall reaching the edge I sat down on a window ledge. I took my heels off as I placed them next to me. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I stared at the view out the large window.
New York was beautiful at night the buildings were large and the lights were bright. I enjoyed breathtaking views a lot it was something I was growing to love as I was no long cooped up in a prison.
Tears pooled in my eyes. I hadn't cried in years, the last time I cried was when I had my first serious injury. I was eight and it was a regular training session.
I was going hand to hand with another widow when I lost my balance she took it as an opportunity to take the win.
I was knocked to the ground and I fell on my arm breaking it in the process. The other widow didn't realise and continued fighting until I called quits unable to bear the pain.
I cried as I was sat on the training mat and once I was given medical attention I was instructed never to cry again or the consequences would've been worse.
I wasn't even allowed to cry at the ceremony when my uterus was basically carved out. Now looking at kids and families left me feeling a little empty on the inside.
Now here I sat in a billionaire's tower wondering how my life had gone so wrong. Why I was chosen to be made a widow. How I had no past and now from the looks of it no future.
A tear slipped as I took a deep breath in. I laughed tauntingly to myself. In the reflection of the very clear glass, I could just about make out my red eyes.
I heard footsteps behind me and straightened up I wiped my eyes putting on a smile and turned around until I discovered it was Tony looking down at me. I let my smile fall and kept a straight face.
"Hey," he said as he sat down next to me "I'm really not in the mood right now," I said admitting defeat. In all honesty, I didn't want to hear any more trashy insults. "I'd really like it if you left," I said "no can do," Tony said. "Stark please" I pleaded and he gave me a sorry look.
Sorry looks were something I hated. They were common in the red room every time a fight was lost or punishment was issued a sorry look from a fellow widow was common.
Sorry looks were something I wanted to leave behind.
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