Frozen

Chapter 1

Note: Final Edit

"Mom, Dad?!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

I couldn't see anything, even when I had my eyes wide open. In the darkness, the eco of my own voice was my only answer. I made my way down the hall to the only spot of light coming from my parents' open bedroom door.

"Mom!"

As I walked, disoriented and scared. I felt the thick, warm liquid beneath my bare feet. As disgusting as the sensation was, I pushed myself to keep going, until I reached the bedroom door.

He stood there, illuminated by the dim moonlight pouring from the open window, the only visible part of his body were his cold blue eyes. At his feet, the bodies of my parents, whose blood I stood upon, laid lifeless.

All of my screams dried in my throat, I couldn't even cry. All I did was stare at the shadow man as he raised his gun and pointed it directly at me.

I closed my eyes, kept them shut for what felt like hours, waiting for the monster to pull the trigger, but nothing happened. When I dared to open them again, the man was gone.

I turn my head to Dr. Callahan, who stares at me with deep interest from behind her desk. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him, it is as if he is always in the darkness."

The blonde psychiatrist nods, reaches for her prescription pad, and scribbles something there. It is the same appointment every 3 months for the last 15 years; my same tragic story, my haunted dreams, a new cocktail of pills.

"These might help you sleep a bit better, discontinue the use if you don't see a notorious difference within two weeks, and give my secretary a call to get you another prescription." She hands me the small sheet of paper, flashing me her perfect pearl white teeth.

I try to return such enthusiastic smile, but I fail. Taking my new poison, I wave goodbye, and step out of the Doctor's office.

Outside, the sun shines bright up in the sky of Washington D.C, 8:30 am in the morning, and Capital Hill buzzes with life. I make my way to Dunkin Donuts, just a few blocks down the street, get my regular iced latte and a glazed donut, and then walk a little farther down to the Constitution Gardens, close to the Lincoln Monument. A normal Thursday morning.

I have a good hour before having to be at work, so I decide to walk around the park, taking my time to enjoy the morning sun and my iced coffee.

I hear the footsteps coming from behind, faster than a usual runner, strong and sturdy against the ground.

"On your left!" He says as he zips on by, so fast that by the time I hear the words, he is already a half a mile in front of me.

That's all I ever see of Steven Rogers. His tall figure as he goes up the stairs of our apartment building, or his strong back as he runs in the mornings. It has been a couple of months since the legendary Captain America moved into the apartment right above mine.

Every night since then, I can hear his restless footsteps on the hardwood floor on those nights were neither of us can sleep.

Steve disappears in the distance, while someone else catches up to me.

"Hey Alex!" Sam Wilson bents over, holding his stomach with one hand, and trying to catch his breath.

I giggle.

"He did it again, didn't he?"

Sam straightens his back, wraps his sweaty arm around my shoulder, and pulls me in to mess my hair up with his free hand.