Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold*Captain America*Avengers*

3) Dead woman walking

You knew you were not ready to see your parents ever again. You were sure as fuck you did not brace yourself to see them with a knife at their throats.

All remains of your cool, all the confidence you had gained when fighting your way through, it all turned into ash.

You were a helpless kid again – helpless and ill, finally seeing their mother after an endless procedure and all you wished for was to curl up in her arms and let her cradle you in her warm and safe embrace, where everything got better.

You felt the air being knocked out from you, tears prickling your eyes. Your dad was right next to her, a huge man holding him in some sort of a headlock, blade on his throat. His expression was one of horror; the fact you might have been the true source of his fear stung your gut sharper than you anticipated.

Your mother was simply crying, watching you with mixture of healthy respect, fear and hesitant hope. It broke you even when you knew she could never ever recognize you like this.

You sprang in her direction first, but a man waiting behind the door on your left surprised you, lunging after you. You shushed the yelp and the pissed off 'sloppy' that sounded in your head and caught his arm on you, flipping him over, knocking him unconscious with your fist covered in ice.

The one appearing right behind him ended up with his feet frozen to the floor with two thick columns of ice, your sole in his abdomen. Also, his hand received a bit of a frostbite when he aimed his gun at you. And then you punched him in his face twice. He fell down.

"If I had free hands, I would clap," sly voice commented, sending icy shivers down your spine. You snapped your head to him, your ponytail flying with the swift movement.

Oh how you had learnt to hate and despise that voice in just few hours. If you would have fallen asleep during the time between receiving the phone and your arrival here, you would have heard him in your nightmares.

You barely made a move towards him when the click of his tongue stopped you, his gaze focused on the blade of your mother's skin. You froze in the middle of your step.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, Snowflake."

Your nails dug into your palm at the addressing, the action followed by his cheeky smile. God how much you craved for freezing that smile and punching all of his teeth out.

"Let them go," you hissed, not caring if you sounded cliché or not.

He seemed to consider for long seconds, his gaze getting distant.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he replied in the end, meeting your eyes again.

You would swear you saw a flash of madness in them; your heart stopped at that. Mad people had nothing to lose. Who had nothing to lose did whatever he wanted.

You gulped. How do you get through to a psychopath?

You had no better plan than offering yourself in exchange – you were not afraid of showing your weakness, he had already knew it after all, he had used it to get you here.

"Please. You don't have to hurt them. You got my attention. I'm here. These people are innocent," you pleaded in shaky voice, glancing at your parents' faces again.

Their expressions twisted with fear made you want to cry and curl up in a ball.

Here I am, you fucking bastard. Here I am, so let them go. For god's sake, just let them go. I was supposed to die years ago and if not that, than at least months ago. I am in relative peace with my death and so are they. But not with their own.