Death In My Voice [Severe Editing Era]

Chapter 15

Don't be scared you can't hide
So we beg that we have the strength to fight

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(A/n  Ugh, it will be sad.)

        Cassie's hands slowly slid over my hair, gathering strand by strand a plain braid that began at the back of my head and ended at the shoulder blades. The girl slightly straightens, giving volume, and looks at me inquiringly. 

       "Yes, I like it," I nod and make a sign that for the time being she can go and manage her own problems. 

        Cassie is a good girl, but she doesn't do two things very skillfully: she cooks amaretto for me and hides her feelings. If it was somehow possible to put up with the first one, then the second was annoying with the order of magnitude. She mumbled something in response and left, taking the bag. 

       I look at myself in a tall and long mirror. The skin became much paler. A half-half-gasp escaped from the lips, compressed into a thin line, and the mirror cracked precisely on my face. I watch for a while as the spider webs spread over the fragile glass, but I still drive off to a huge window. 

      Tonight, one thought kept me awake. I rolled from side to side, but I couldn't close my eyes. Because of the excitement, the stomach still cramped, but this is the least that worried me now. The fact is that yesterday, during the evening feeding of my furry wards, I noticed what made me spend all night thinking and weighing all the pros and cons. 

       It seemed to me that the risk was justified, but after a minute my hands were cold, and my fingers were trembling with fear. In the end, I decided to talk to Tony. It is better to know for sure the possibility of an event than to sit and wind yourself up. 

        Tin Can was in our laboratory, where he argued with Friday about something. He immediately diverted from his incredibly interesting occupation and turned to me.

       "Wow, our prior finally got out of his cell," I roll my eyes and come closer. 

        "I have a serious conversation with you, Mr Iron Clown. I want my legs back."

        "And how? Oh, I think I understand. Do you want me to make your dentures? So this is not a problem; it will come out no worse than that of the notorious Winter Soldier, I can safely promise you that."

        "No, no," I shake my head, but to myself, I think that such an idea never entered my head. "You didn't understand me: I want my legs."

          Stark changed his face for a second. Then he smiled indulgently and flopped straight into the bean bag. 

          "Do you wanna say that you are going to try out the results of our research?" why he speaks about this matter as if we hadn't done this only for the last three years? Looking at me, Tony understood the seriousness of my words. "In the best case, you will grow a second head or a third hand, and I'm not saying that at worst you will die, because you already know that. 

          "I know," I nod confidently and look straight into his eyes. "And I also know that I will die soon because of this problem is shaking my nerves." I don't have the strength and courage to live as a disabled person. 

          Tony put his elbows on his knees and buried his hands in his dark hair. I was scared to take such a step, but it was even worse than he would forbid me also to try.