[2] instability ▷ bucky barnes

▷ introduction

SHE was cold.

Shivering in the brisk breeze of September, she walked down the sidewalk in Brooklyn, New York, her eyes glued to the ground to avoid the wary glances of passing bystanders. She was mingled with dirt, her clothes tattered and her hair all over the place. The tips of her fingers trembled in pain at their bloody rawness. The glossy, cloudy gray deadness of her eyes seeped through the stringiness of her now jet black hair. That was only a side effect of being dead, of decaying, for God knows how long. Her bloody fingertips were an effect of the rage she had experienced only a few minutes before.

She was grateful that her skin wasn't falling off of her bones at the moment.

With her head down, tears of anger and sadness fell at a quickened pace. She shook her head as she walked further on, her bloody fingers scraping at her upper arms in hopes for just a tiny fragment of warmth. "Stupid," She muttered to herself as she wracked her brain, reaching through the black void, trying to pull back something, anything from it, but failing.

All she knew was that she was walking around in a big city, cold and helpless, and that she crawled out of a grave titled "Here lies Artemis Schmidt." She then remembered the anger she had felt which lead her to painfully scratch out the names and dates on the headstone in front of her and write an anger-driven message that could truly set anyone on edge.

That name. She wanted to grasp it, to squeeze it until it snapped into a million tiny pieces, granting her the access of having it forever. That fucking name, was it her's?

"Stupid," She whispered again to herself, this time trembling profusely against the cold, turning more gazes upon her. Whispers of shock echoed as they stared at her bloody, torn apart fingernails, and she subconsciously hid them, still never looking up from her process of following the lines on the sidewalk. With the ring of the name Artemis echoing through her head, she saw a small glimpse of a man that she knew she felt so much for.

His blue eyes were icy cold, yet looking in them made her feel more warmth than she'a ever known. He was like her mirror's image, and this feeling of that man, it nearly made her weak in the knees. Who was he?

All these questions that she needed answers to. Where was she? Why was she under the ground? Was she dead? Did she die of sickness, or was she murdered?

Her lip shivered against the cold now as she turned towards the alley way for comfort. Maybe if she stood there, she wouldn't get as many stares as she had before. They looked at her as if she were one of the the monsters under their bed, and perhaps, they could be correct. The girl never even knew herself, nor what she was like.

Why couldn't she remember?

There were pictures in her head that tried to resurface, to come back up so she could bob them back out with her longing mind. She was desperate to know, it irked her nerves to a point where she was squeezing her fists so hard that what was left of her fingernails were digging into the leathery skin of her palm. She didn't feel the pain, oddly enough.

She compared to a black hole. Sucking the life from things, knowing nothing, feeling nothing. She felt like nothing.

And even through all of this darkness, this pain and sense of struggle, some asshole decided it'd be a great idea to try and come up behind the distressed girl with a gun pointed at the back of her head. "Hey sweetheart," He cooed from behind her, his voice heavily accented due to living in Brooklyn for all of his life.

The girl tilted her head towards him, her black hair covering everything that he couldn't see except for her lips. He saw that they were cracked and left bleeding, a sign of sheer insanity radiating from the girl. The man almost instantly regretted coming up to her with his sense of cockiness, yet he kept pushing as he shook the gun at her head. "Give me all your money or I swear I'll shoot your fuckin' brains out." His voice trembled with a new fear bubbling up within him.

She turned her face more to him now, a small smile finding its way onto her pale, calloused features. It was no sincere smile, no genuine smile or even a mischievous one. This smile was coated with darkness, painted over with a new temptation that tingled in the tips of her fingers, this power clawing to be let free from its homey cage inside of her. Maybe she was destined to be this way, for she didn't even know her true purpose.

The man on the opposing side of her's knees began to quiver as her full appearance came into his view. "Then do it." She replied, her voice raspy and dangerously challenging as she stared down the barrel of the now shaking gun in his hand. His eyes were wide with fear as she stared directly at him, their eyes interlocking.

His mouth was parted as he searched for words to say, but she didn't give him enough time for that. She violently grabbed the barrel of the pistol, jabbing it into her forehead as she screamed. "Do it!" His eyes were wide as he now regretted putting the last bullet he had in the gun, and when her thumb found its way to the trigger, she pushed his finger down on it, ricocheting a solid click through the alley.

Her echoing laughter bubbled up her throat, along with a breathtaking sob. "You're so typical." She said, restless tears now sprouting out of her eyes as she easily took the gun from his hand. She cocked it back and pointed it to the side of her head as the man stepped forward with his hands out, shaking his head at her.

"Hey look, kid. Put the gun down." She gave him a smile, pulling the trigger, sprouting yet another click around the alley. He shook his head as she cocked it again, putting it under her chin this time with an even more devious smile. With the blink of his eye, another breathtaking click echoed and he flinched, taking another step foreword.

She quickly turned the gun on him now, causing his arms to raise in shocked defense. "Your turn."

Before he could blink, she cocked it back once more and pressed her cold finger on the metal trigger, and the man flinched, his eyes closing. He didn't feel anything, however when he opened his eyes, looking down the barrel of the revolver that he had stolen from a house that he once broke into, he saw the silver bullet come into view as she cocked it back.

She smiled with a new feeling she had never felt before as his eyes widened, and before the man could react to anything, she spoke two, solid words that sent shivers down his spine.

"Night, night."

And then she pulled the trigger.

1289 words
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So... Artemis is officially batshit.

SURPRISE!

Also, I'm so hype about writing this book, it's going to be lit. Although the updates will be slower than usual, I'll still try my best to update at least once a week on this.

I love all of you guys so much!

Much luv,
~KatXoXo