There are demons in the girl's head. They make her wish she was dead.
Two years ago, the infamous Tony Stark told the world that he was Iron Man and that came with consequences that his precious daughter, Lisa, had to suffer. Despite all odd...
and oh, stupid things i do i'm far from good, it's true but still i find you next to me next to me───imagine dragons
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rose hill, tennessee december 23, 2012
We disappear back into the contrasting black and white night. Our feet carry us toward the incredibly miniature town called Rose Hill until we find a small house with a shed. It's exactly perfect for what we need. My hands and fingers are numb as I pick the lock of the shed's red door, and I find that I am, once again, silently thanking Happy for teaching me. Who would have ever thought this would be such a useful piece of knowledge?
Dad makes me let him go first, or, well, Iron Man go first as he stands the suit up and then hits him over the head with a hammer. The small shed is messy, to say the least, with an old truck parked off to the side and random tools and other random things scattered around. Dad gives a slight nod, deciding that this will do. We struggle to plop the suit down onto an old couch and he just lounges back as if he's taking a load off, not that I'm jealous or anything.
"Let's get you comfy," Dad arranges the suit's hands and I silently play along, arranging his neck and facing him forward, "You happy now?"
I stumble back away from them both, laughing at his sarcasm a little.
Dad turns, sitting slightly on the couch and pointing at me, "Now you."
My eyes fall closed as I flash back to another time. Dad gently guides a very numb, dizzy me onto the couch beside Mark 42. He flicks my hair back and then he begins to check me over for injuries. He cups my face in his hands and turns my head back and forth. I keep my eyes closed as my mind continues to float around with memories that I've tried to forget.
I finally mumble out, "Yinsen said that."
"Yinsen said what?" I hear Dad tearing something before he begins wrapping material around my now bare and injured stomach.
I suppose getting smashed into by our work table must have really done some damage because it hurts something awful.
"'Now you'," I shrug as my eyes open so that I can stare at my father.
He looks a lot older than he did when we were kidnapped. He has more wrinkles around his eyes and I can't decide if that's a good thing. His hair is much shorter now and it's been styled up instead of how it just used to just flop around or get gelled back. He's lost that softness to his appearance; the softness of being innocent of shedding another's blood, of just being my dad, of being unaware of nightmarish things. Many things are different, but his chocolate eyes are never changing ever since I first saw them that day in Room-112. Happy with a hint of loneliness. I may have gotten my mother's eyes, but I know I got my father's loneliness.
