tainted dreams |p. parker ✔️

i.

tainted dreams | chapter one
___

___

Rosalie Evans, 4 months in the future

"Give it to me! Now!"

The gun was pointed at the cashier's chest, the blond woman's hand not quivering as she yelled orders to the helpless people around her. It wouldn't be wise for them to disrespect her wishes. Some had done it in the past, earning them a quick and painless death.

The small shop had been packed when Rosalie entered. She patiently waited for some of the costumers to leave, roaming the short corridors and gathering some meaningless goods in her arm, as if she were there to buy ingredients for a quick chicken soup.

Then, when the majority of the clients had left the small shop, Rosalie's plan started to take place.

The cashier trembled, collecting the money from the register and stuffing it inside the bag Rosalie had thrown his way. Hurting him was not something she planned on doing, like she never did all those times before. They simply happened, when she got too angry or someone decided to be brave and actually face her.

Three people. She had killed three people in the past couple of months. Since she left her home, Rosalie had become ruthless, a thief and an accidental killer.

A killer, nonetheless. A fact that haunted her every awake moment.

And she wasn't exactly proud of her life's current path. No one would be, if they knew who she really was.

Rosalie wasn't that stupid to go around unarmed and unprotected. She always covered her face with a makeshift mask, using the material of her old suit and mask. Black pants, boots and sweatshirts were her everyday wear, easy to pack in her small backpack wherever she needed to move on to another city or state.

She didn't want to collect too many memories and trinkets. They would be harder to carry or get separated from once she had to run away.

Her eyes were fixated upon the fearful cashier, who threw the bag back at the blonde and raised his arms in the air.

"Please don't hurt me." He whispered as his thin arms trembled in the air.

"Don't make me hurt you, then." The girl replied, her smirk clearly showing on her voice, but invisible to their eyes as her face was completely covered.

With the money-filled bag over her shoulder, the girl quickly exited the small shop, listening closely for any heroic hostages. When she found none, she sped away from the place and hid behind a trash can on a nearby dark alley.

The night was cold and creepy, just like Rosalie liked it.

Counting the money as fast as she could, and making mental notes about new hiding places in her small motel room, the girl heard sirens in the distance.

"Shit."

It was life. It was her new life. And she had to get used to it.

This new lifestyle used to hurt her deeply. In the beginning, she would cry her eyes out every single night, nightmares constantly invading her troubled mind. Over the course of the following days and weeks, Rosalie managed to find a new anchor, something to pull her down whenever she felt like drowning in her own toxic thoughts and actions.

Natasha. She was the only one left. The only important person, the only one who truly cared for her -and the only one who was still alive and breathing. She made sure of that before leaving her mentor behind. She was safe with Steve.

She smiled as she ran away from her hiding spot, rushing past the authorities in her dark clothes and concealed face. Her powers always helped her whenever she felt danger was coming, camouflaging her.

The thrill of barely escaping the police was amazing. Rosalie felt like a new person every time she rushed past them, hidden behind her powers and running around in the shadows. She thought back to the time she was indeed helping the authorities with people like her.

And now, there she was. Being the one thing she always fought: a criminal.

But it was her only choice. Dealing with grief and loss was too much for her young body and mind. So she escaped and started misbehaving. Once she got a taste of that, her messed up mind didn't want anything else.

She wished no one found out that she was the one behind these minor crimes. Surely Nat would give her a piece of her mind if she found her wandering the streets, stealing and living off of cold microwave meals.

What she needed was a better plan. Stealing from small shops and convenience stores was not enough to feed herself and make sure she didn't die.

So, as she opened her motel room door and heard gunshots coming from the neighbourhood, she had an idea. A wicked one.

As those gang members ran away with a lady's purse and her car keys in hand, she smiled like a madwoman and pushed her door open, carefully locking it and grabbing a pen and some paper.

Rosalie Evans would stop being a criminal, and start fighting crime her way.

One gang group at a time.

___
here we go again! i know this was a short chapter, but it was needed to give some context about rosalie's life at the moment... people deal with grief in various ways
as always, don't forget to vote and comment to show your support!!
see you guys soon with another chapter!