━━𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐀 [𝐍.𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅]

𝐎𝐍𝐄

☠︎︎

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐀
𝐎𝐍𝐄

☠︎︎

(A hydra base, 2014)

Her porcelain hands traced the scarred skin sitting neatly on her bare thigh, shaky fingers running over each tear which was still slightly raised and worn from the terrors that once cut deep into it. Hayley couldn't remember where she got it nor how it happened, but she knew it sat there, tormenting and mocking her. Although it had been stitched- roughly of course, no amount of weaving or care could mend the broken woman that was slumped against the rusted metal chair.

Within the confinement of the melancholy walls- which slowly seemed to be narrowing, although she couldn't tell from her hazy eyesight, Hayley could just about make out the distant silhouettes dancing around her limp body. Their hands holding various amounts of tools which would soon to be planted into her delicate figure.

She wouldn't try to fight it..she never did. There was no point escaping the inevitable, Hydra was like a rash- contaminating the good with bad, like hungry vines clinging on to any bit of hope she has, to only suck it out of her, leaving her empty.

But she could do so many things to prevent it; she knows their flaws just like they know hers, the way she also knows they would hesitate to kill her- Hydra didn't want to lose one of their prised possessions, how three of the guards walked with a falter (something gifted by her in one of the many tiring training sessions) , and how she mapped the entire building to be a fresh blue print embedded into the scars in her skin.

But she was dying.. not physically. It was a mental fault. Everyday felt like the cells were being ripped apart in her brain and sewn back together again. And of course.. this causes problems;

Missions became sloppy, punches became pulled and the inability to even respond to the common command.

That's how she ended up in this situation.

Hayley's raw shrivelled fingers were clenching underneath her scratched palms, as the recently put on restraints bound her bony wrists to the metallic chair, icy air blew through the thin cotton material that hugged her frame like a cocoon- hiding away her battle wounds to wandering eyes.

Gloved hands made there way down to her ankles, buckling them to the harsh cuffs, subduing her ability of movement. Hayley knew what was happening.. She knew what was coming. And looking into cold orbs of one person confirmed her suspicions.

Alexander Pierce.

A devil that sits on her shoulder; whispering the 'sweet' biddings in her screaming ears, compelling her to do his dirty work- alongside her companion, her partner, the other devil- a fallen angel.

The moment they eyes met, a sinister smirk reached his chapped lips and a hum of appreciation escaped his mouth. Pierce's gaze wandered over to the table beside her, full of sharp edges and pointed needles.

A shrilling sound rang through the dull room, interrupting the crooked doctors and scientists ready to preform on their victim. Pierce's hands found their way to his jacket pocket, taking ahold of the phone and looking at the caller. By the look he casted their way, they knew it was serious. His back turned and took long strides towards the steel door but before he walked out he did a one over whilst nodding his head in approval. A signal that it was time.

A sharp pain shot through her neck like a bullet, from what Hayley could see, there was a chunky needle prodding out of her neck, a trail of blood ran down it. A burning feeling swarmed her veins- making everything seem much more claustrophobic.

A harboured gasp left her cracked lips as her whole build fell into the submission of paralysation, yet she could still feel everything.

The low murmurs of the doctors native tongue he stung her ears, each spitting sentence scraping through one and out the other. Though that was swiftly overshadowed by the loud hum of a drill, a sound that has never bother Hayley before, but now what seems to be one of her nightmares.

As the tumultuous blare came closer, her cold heart seemed to crack- a new beat in its rhythm. What felt like a slap in the face to the deadly reality, all she wanted to do was scream, but mouth agape and watery irises open, she couldn't even let out a whimper.

In the last few moments before every thing went black, the only thing she could feel was the skull cracking churning which entered the back of her head, excruciating pain erupted like a volcano under pressure, spewing out the insides which would paint the walls in colour- funny how such a pretty tone could paint such a horrendous picture.

Tears fell out of their sockets, leaving a wet mess to hide her sickly pale face. Cheekbones were now sunken like ship, bags collected under the blind eyes and her chipped nails were no longer scratching into the arm of the cold metal. A cold layer of sweat struck to her for head matching the sticky substance matted into the back of her brunette hair.

The last thing she remembered- the only thing she will remember, was the pair of polished shoes standing in front of her, radiating the omnipotence. Wrinkled hands waved in front of her glazed orbs, clicking to get any sort of reaction. But to their avail, they're was no response.

Hydra knew she was in there somewhere; Pierce knew she was in there, and by she, they meant the Black Mamba. She was hiding, she was nervous, she wasn't ready. But she would be.

"She just needs to wake up."

Oh- how Hell would rise when she does.

☠︎︎

I'm going through and editing this book and actually hopefully writing more chapters.
So stay tuned

:)

-editing