I have nothing else to say that could make him stop. All I have is the truth. "They will think you're the enemy if you continue this." I tell him.
Pietro looks over his shoulder to give a last glance at me. "You're with them," Pietro states with his...
AN: Thank you everyone for the wait of every update. The song Faded by Alan Walker is either on the side or up top.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Months Later. . .
The ocean view from my bedroom window is my favorite spot to turn to when I need to think. I can stare at the blue waves crashing against the sand for hours. I can watch ordinary people enjoy their day at the beach. It excites me to see new people there every day—but I have become familiar with a few who show up in a specific time range almost every day. Even if it's the lone surfer who surfs every night, or the couple who jog together every morning across the beach. In a way, they each remind me of these little things that they do in their lives. These little things are what they choose to do.
In the time I have been here, I have not only been on peace with the world and reality itself—but with who I am. Honestly, there are days when it is hard to be away from my friends, but ever since I woke up, being isolated has helped more understand who I truly am rather than be forced into the ways of SH.I.E.L.D. and maybe the U.S. government with my gift. If that is what you would call it.
Thankfully, there wasn't much need to be out in public to maintain a secluded life that I wanted. I could keep myself away from crowds and media while continuing to train my powers. That might make me sound like someone who came out of the 1970's, but when you expose yourself to hours yoga every week, you start to notice how you perform in your daily life. That is the lesson I learned from my gift—who I am with that force.
A short yet loud ringtone starts to play from my nightstand. I'm only startled for a moment until I remember who on my contact list that the specific ringtone belongs to. It's been a few days since I've heard that ringtone. Yet, that worries me.
I am hesitant to pick it up, hoping for the best from the call. They know they shouldn't call me unless it's an emergency. But knowing from the last phone call, anything can be an emergency.
Once I answer, I know immediately to say something before the other person on the end of the line starts blabbing. "Evelyn, I know you want to keep in touch with me and I want to do the same. But this is for your safety and if you don't remember the end of our last conversation when I told you-"
"To lose this number and get a new phone because they can trace you from me and then they will think I was helping you stay off the grid. I know, I know. I remember your emphasis at the part of 'the grid'." Evelyn pauses, a sign she uses to tell me she has something to tell me, "But I had to check up on you."
My eyes look up at the window. I focus on a child who seem no older than six. She dusts off the sand from her hands against her bare legs. She steps back to look at molded sand from a pale as if it were a masterpiece. Then unknowingly, a smile creeps upon my face, witnessing the little girl look over to a boy who is a few years older than her, helping her put more sand in the pale. I assume the boy who must be no younger than eight is her brother. "I'm fine, Ev." I say, calmly.
