𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | steve harrington

015| fight of desperation

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HER WRISTS WERE NUMB AND SOMEHOW that's what was bothering her the most. Tight bonds dug into her skin and after an hour she couldn't feel her hands anymore. Briar was staring at the floor in front of her face, isolated in a dark room that was all grey walls and cold draughts that seemingly came from nowhere. Shadows crept up the corners and her eyes stung with tears but she continued to stare at the floor and tried to remember what it felt like to move her fingers because even when the joints bent she couldn't feel it.

She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling, full of cracks and patches of damp. Briar wondered how far down they were, the air felt weirdly tight but maybe that was just the amount of times she'd cried. The girl was unaware how long she'd been stuck in the room or how many times she'd been asked the same questions.

Mostly she'd been left unharmed. Russians all wore army green and patches of red but they talked bad English and Briar could only shake her head and sob. She'd tell them over and over again that it was some stupid mistake but she knew it to be pointless. They were never going to let American infiltrators go which led her to the next idea that she was going to die somewhere in this secret Russian base and there was nothing she could do about it.

Briar panicked every two seconds, wondering how they'd managed to get themselves into such a mess. Being stuck inside the elevator had been bad enough but in that room she wished she could see boxes of cardboard again or get Steve to hold her. Steve who had disappeared, dragged somewhere far away. Briar started to cry again, tears dropping onto her jeans as her arms prickled in cold.

"Let me out of here!" She yelled, voice cracking for no good reason.

Her pointless attempts of shouting had done nothing but she wished she could hear Steve's voice again, or Robin's, or Clover's. Briar wondered what would happen if she did die, if her parents would ever know what had really happened to her. She thought of her brother and whether he missed her yet. Briar didn't know who she was kidding, Oliver would be freaking out as a night past without her presence in the house. Despite the comfort of knowing people were looking for her she knew that they'd never think to look deep underground because realistically, who would?

"Please" Briar sobbed, "we're just kids, we didn't do anything wrong we're just kids!"

Her cries echoed off the walls and Briar was unaware if anyone was even listening to her anymore. She hit her rubber soles off the floor but then stopped wasting energy to slump in her chair again. Her arms were pulled back at awkward angles and at some point her shoulders had burnt with aches as she tried to wrench herself free. However after an hour it just whittled into numbness.

Briar could hear her heart beating in her chest mainly because there was no other sound. The doors were large and heavy, they stretched to the floor and barely showed a slither of the world outside in those dark corridors. Briar wanted to walk out as a free woman and run until she couldn't anymore. She wanted Steve but she had no idea where he was.

She wasn't sure how much time she'd been alone but when the door opened she wished she could've had more time to imagine escaping. It was nice to imagine she was anywhere else in the world, that she wasn't spiralling into the idea of death and picturing her parents reactions. Briar understood the narcissism behind her every thought but she also couldn't escape the swallowed darkness that had become her own mind.

Briar looked up as two Russian guards walked into the room. They both looked the same to her, dark eyes and mean sneers. One was definitely older with slightly greying hair but the younger had the same set jaw. She slunk back slightly in the seat and stared at them in fear that they seemed to absorb into their smiles.