Apricity {~the white widow~}

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I yanked on my handcuffs with all my strength, hoping to free my wrists. This attempt failed miserably, however, because instead of loosening them, I just continued to cut them like knives through my skin. In some places the skin was so raw that the silver handcuffs were splattered with blood drops.

Not much has happened since I woke up in this room with a pounding head. First thing after waking up I looked down at myself and realized I was still in my suit. I then exhaled in relief because that meant that A.R.T.I.S hadn't been taken away from me. Not that I have the faintest idea if anything would happen because I'm being held in a white room.

I knew that this room was just a means in mentally draining me. They want to mess up my sense of time, my sense of direction and ultimately my sleep pattern in such ways that my mental state would allow them to get all sorts of information out of me. They wanted me to go insane and beg for mercy. Note for myself: Remember you don't beg!

I let out an annoyed sound before ultimately cracking the handcuffs open and swinging to my feet from my odd sitting position and pacing the small room.

My gaze kept wandering up to the ceiling until I found what I was subconsciously looking for. The harsh light made it difficult to see, but my trained eye spotted the small camera in the corner, covering the entire room. There was no blind spot here. No escaping the watchful eye of the director and HYDRA.

Me knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D. was infiltrated, was not known by anyone. I was amazed that, given by who my father is alone, it didn't occur to them that my brain could process information faster than that of the average person. Even if this information was just scraps of words. I didn't give up until I knew exactly what it was about. A bad habit of mine probably. Because either knowledge is power or that knowledge will kill you slowly and painfully.

I looked straight into the camera lens thoughtfully. Without losing "eye contact", I slowly sat cross-legged. I looked at the device with my emotionless expression on my face.

You might not see it, but behind my facade I was restless. The silence that reigned in this room became more and more unbearable by the minute. My thoughts grew louder and louder, creating a confusing mess in my head.

Because I failed.

My greatest fear became reality. I was taught from a young age not to fail. Because as Madame B always said, failure means imperfection and she didn't tolerate that. Imperfection meant death. All my childhood I was surrounded by death, but I pulled through.It was clear from the start that I would be the last survivor. Everyone knew.

The pressure this need for perfection puts on a person is unbearable. The desire to strive for complete perfection.

Kakorrhaphiophobia; the fear of failure

Sooner or later everyone collapses under the load.
In my case probably later. I hope.

But who wants to admit after years of hard work to achieve perfection that there is no such thing as perfection. That it is just a utopia of power hungry man. An unattainable state of the human mind that drives one into insanity and makes one do cruel things just to be better than all life in the world.

All of a sudden I heard faint footsteps approaching the door. They sounded muffled from the distance, but I could still guess that they were the steps of a small woman who was confidently walking towards my holding cell. Just before the door, however, the footsteps moved away to the right and faded away again. From afar I could already hear a whole squad moving towards my location.