The Unseen Avenger ∘ Marvel

Chapter Eight: Comin Crashin Part 1

I hear a crack as my left arm breaks. I yell in unbelievable pain, unable to move my wrist to pry her off me.

"Let me go!" I scream. Hot breath comes on my neck, the smell of rum filling my nose. I am turned around and hit, my cheek stings. I want to cry, but she would laugh. My chin tips up to see her, her devilish smile. Her image is distorted, the whole room seeming off as sweat rolls down my back.

"You didn't say please." She chuckles, intoxicated by the liquid poison in her hands.

Another slap, stinging already red cheeks.

I stumble back, but only to be pulled on again by my hair. A chunk comes out from my scalp, leaving my mother with a hand full of hair.

"Stop it, please!" I cry. She laughs like a hyena, ones in the desert that's howls twist in a vicious playfulness.

I see her holster, a glinting handle of a gun in it.

Maybe if I point it at her she'll stop.

Maybe she'll stop.

Maybe she'll stop.

I run over, frantic fingers grabbing it with my unbroken hand quickly while she yells after me. I bring the barrel up, aim shaking as I am not accustom to it's weight.

"Don't touch me!" I hoarsely yell in desperation. I see her halt, then keep walking towards me.

"Little Si, you won't shoot. I'm your mother." The gate of her walk becomes faster. The amount of alcohol swimming in her brain makes her steps crooked, but she keeps coming towards me. The sound of her footsteps echo in my ears, mixing with the heaving of my heavy chest screaming in my own head.

All I think of is the pain. Of my dead father. Of the bruises that paint my body and the scars that adorn my skin. Of the pain buzzing in my scalp after she raked her bloody nails across my head.

Maybe she'll stop.

I don't mean to pull the trigger my finger rests on. With littlest applied pressure, the bullet flies.

I see her freeze, then slump down, then fall. Red blooms over he white shirt like an artist dabbing color on a blank canvas. Strangled moans escape her lips before they stop moving all together.

My torturer has died.

The pistol falls from my grasp, landing with a thud on the ground. My body follows, my knees hitting a concrete floor, sending shoots of hurts through my thighs. My hands meet a pool of sickly crimson blood. Numbness takes over as my breathing stays stuck in my throat. It all feels like a dream. It all feels like a dream.

"Killer!" A voice screams into the abyss, "Murderer!"

It comes from nowhere, but I know the sound. Loki.

I wake up from my dream so fast, I end up jumping out of my bed. Realizing the whole scenario was in my head, I sigh, relief flooding through me. Just a simple, harmless dream. Nothing more. Yet, my muscles stay taut while I still my rampant breathing.

I slip on my jumpsuit, heading towards Loki's cell. I'd been given the morning shift. I wanted work, not standing outside of a cell, watching it like a cat with it's food(mouse) locked up in a cage, safe. He seemed content with his room, which irked me. It could be a ploy, but my gut says otherwise. He's safe there, and that worries me.

I wait outside, watching my data pad only to see Loki pacing back and forth. Back and forth. Turning a little, back and forth. I set the tablet down, standing as others pass by. It's incredibly boring, and I cure Fury a few times in my head. After an hour or two of this, a familiar red-head walks up.