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•••
"Ah, Hello. You are awake." Someone said as soon as I tried to open my eyes. It was German. The accent the person had was German. I opened my eyes to see I was locked into one of the cells like Anastasia was in. "What the hell?" I whispered standing up but regretting it immediately as I fell back down. I leaned against the wall and looked up. The sun was shining brightly through the small window and landed on my pale skin. Revealing a small bruise on my cheekbone. It was morning. I slept the whole damn night.
"Baron Von Strucker." He introduced himself while he got handed over a map by the silver haired boy I saw yesterday night.
"And you are Jeleňa Angeloff, sister of Anastasia Angeloff. My condolences." He hummed, opening the map that had a couple papers between it.
"Jeleňa Angeloff, born on the 21st December 1997 at 06:12am. Аnastasia Angeloff, born on the 21st December 1997 at 06:45am. Both born in Sokovia. Twins?" He asked abruptly. He looked at his side where the silver haired boy stood next to a brown-haired girl just his height, before looking back at me and continuing when he didn't get an answer out of me.
"Your mother's name was Аlyona Аngeloff. Born on the 12th February 1965 in Sokovia. And your father was a native of America, Patrick Smith. Born on the 30th October 1966 in New York. Both killed when-"
"Don't." I interrupted not needing to get reminded that I lost them just as I lost my sister.
"Running away from danger that followed them. Mother choked to death while your father caught 6 bullets in his body, half of them in the head."
"Prestať." Stop. The tears started to stream down my face. Look what we have, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and tried to sob away the tears, an assassin who cries, pathetic.
"It must've been terrible finding them dead in a puddle of blood on the floor in your new house. I hope their last words were; I love you." And with that he left leaving me alone with my killing thoughts and red puffy eyes.
Mom yelled across the kitchen for dad to make up the table while me and Anastasia were playing around. We were pretending we were airplanes as we zoomed around from the cozy fireplace to the kitchen table where dad was placing the boards carefully on the table in front of every chair.
At diner it was always quiet but once the table was free again me and my sister started drawing while both our parents sat next to us. Watching over at our childish drawings.
"You are 14 and still draw stickmen?" He asked playing it off with small laughter and I nod. "That's you, that's me. Ana is the one with the blue dress while momma is the one with the red dress." I said pointing at the stickmen that represented mom. "It's beautiful, you have a talent." Were dad's last words to me while my mom's last words were: 'goodnight' when she tucked me and Ana in bed.
It wasn't an exact 'I love you' but those words were ways of saying it. They loved me, I know that.
•••
"So, that wind flash, was you?" I asked quietly after a long time of thinking about everything. Silverboy, is what I called him from now on as he refuses to give me his name, nod. "Cool." I whispered, my voice slowly fading due the lack of hydration in my throat.
"How did I uh-" I started couching, my throat suddenly stinging from the dryness before talking again, "How did I end up here?"
Silverboy took a deep breath before starting speaking up. He could shut his mouth for a very long time until it's about a subject where he is proud of. Putting me in a cell was obviously one of them.
"I saw you knew something about ninjutsu so I used an ancient technique to knock you out." He answered proudly before standing up from his chair he sat on to grab a bottle of water that was on a lying on a desk. "I pinched you in the neck." He laughed before slowly sliding my cell door open to hand me the bottle of water.
As his hand stretched out I grabbed for it and pulled him into my cell as I basically threw him to the wall. I escaped fast enough to throw the cell door shut before he could escape.
"Zbohom." Goodbye. I winked before drinking up the whole water bottle and grabbing my stuff such as my knifes and bonsai swords that were lying around in the room like it was trash.
"Pietro." He called out making me stop walking and turn around curiously, a big question mark was written all over my face.
"That's my name." He plopped down on the ground and stared at the wall in front of him while his back leaned against the transparent glass of the cell. That boy gave up really easily. He could transport right? Why didn't he then?
