Loki's Angel

Chapter 2

*Isabella's point of view*

Beaten, bloodied, bruised, tortured, starved. That has been my life for the past few years. I dont even know what day it is. Or month. Or year.

Yesterday, I think, a man was here. He was dressed in red, white, and blue. He had a shield and he was wearing a helmet like thing. I don't think he was here to save me, but part of me wishes he was.

I've been locked up at Hydra's base since I was 15. That makes about 3 years of torture if my time keeping isn't that far off...  My life outside of this cell wasn't any better. I lived with my abusive father and step mother, whom I like to call step monster.

Anyway, today, I knew it wasn't going to be a good day. The guards were cranky and more rough than usual. Even so, they were still cautious of me. Sure, I could kick their ass in a second, guns or no guns, but these damn chains keep getting in my way.

I'm only human, I dont have any powers, I'm just a martial artist, I could beat someone half to death in a matter of seconds. Maybe I'm a little over confident, but I've never lost a fight before....well, except for the one that got me in here. I lost that one.

I'm 15 and my father is out drinking again. My step mother is in her room, probably talking to some guys. I am in the living room, going over my moves for talking down someone with a sword, when 3 men shatter the living room window and surround me. I immediately get into my fighting stance and put my fists up, ready to defend myself.

"Now, now, Bella" my step mother says, walking into the room, "these guys are just here to take you away from me and your father. We paid them to do this. We don't want you anymore. You're a pain in our asses and we dont have time for you.

I was stunned. My father, my own flesh and blood, giving me away like some kind of animal. I choked back a sob as I tried to fight my way out of this mess. Tears were blurring my vision as I punched and kicked at no one in particular.

A hot burst of pain shot through my jaw and I fell to the cold, wooden floor beneath me. Getting repeatedly kicked and punched and slapped, I curled my self into a ball and started screaming. I could hear the men yelling at me to shut up.

As I was getting dragged out of my house, gag shoved into my mouth, and handcuffs on my wrists, I collapsed to the concrete. The man dragging me kicked my in the ribs and shouted at me to get up. I layed there, hoping he would just end my life as quickly as possible. Soon, I went numb. I couldn't feel my arms or my legs. I tried to open my eyes, but I was too exhausted to do so.

A cloth was shoved on my face, and it must have had some chemical type stuff on it, because I soon blacked out.

I woke up in a dark room with a mirror and one small, flickering lightbulb, hanging from the ceiling.
"Hello?" I called out as loud as my probably bruised ribs would let me, "is anyone there?"
I heard a door open and its hinges creak. The sound of it slamming made me jump. Laughing, a man stepped into the light. He reminded me of my father, and soon, I had a lump in my throat.

How could my father just give me away?

What did I do wrong?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Thanks to years and years of training, I have mastered mostly all weapons known to mankind, and have become lethal with just my hands. No wonder the guards were so cautious around me.

As they walked into my cell, I glanced at their shined boots and black jeans.

"What are you looking at?" The first man said, slapping me alongside the face, "next time, I wont be so easy on you."

I kept my eyes on the ground as they undid my chains and practically dragged me out of my cell and down the hallway to the room I have grown to despise.

Its walls are white, its floor is white, its ceiling is white, even the desk and chairs are white. Why that color? I have no clue.

I was shoved into the room, landing on my face, and getting a bloody nose. I stood up and saw the bloodstain my nose had made. So that's why the room is all white, to see the blood splattered everywhere.

What I think to be 10 minutes later, a man wearing an all white suit walks in.
"Good evening." He says, flashing an unforgiving smile, "you know the drill."

I sighed and sat in the chair. There was no getting out of this.