ANTI-HERO [N. Romanoff × Female Reader]

Chapter Three

Y/N's POV - 16 YEARS AGO

It was a fire and a man.

I was three, standing outside the front yard of our house when my eyes suddenly were filled with water and smoke. I didn't know what was happening, and all I knew as a little kid was the house — our home was on fire.

It started small and then it grew, to the point where flames were licking the walls and sweeping across the ceiling, though it was mostly smoke that I could see I still knew what or where it was spreading because I knew that I house, I lived there. Then, it came the sound, the flame crackling as something catches fire quickly. The creak and groan of the woods that structured around the house contracting, crying for help. I can smell it, the burning flames, like a bonfire we had a year ago today to celebrate dad's birthday, and now it looks like the fire had caught us back to the house.

I could hear something thumping and I thought it was just my heart banging so loud in my chest but the longer I listened to it, I recognized it.

"Cricket," my mother's voice was filled with poise as she found me standing safe and sound in that front yard, but what's worst was that her voice was starting to tremble, and I only heard that tone from her once, it was when she was worried, and I knew immediately that something bad was happening, other than the house on flame.

She picked me up off of the ground, hugging my small body in her strong big arms as she pressed my head to the nape of her neck, she was blocking my sight, and I didn't like it, but I was a child so of course, I did as she told me.

A second later, everything seemed to be in slow motion as my mother ran us both in a direction away from the fire. The sirens coming from the ambulance were never ending as they echoed and spiraled around my head, people were everywhere and I'd never seen that many people in one place, not even on big occasions.

All of a sudden my mother sat me down on the back of one of the ambulances. Crouched down and looked at me eye to eye. "Cricket, listen to me, okay," she softly started and I stared at her with wide eyes, eager to know what she has to say, "your father," she paused, taking a deep breath, "you might not see him for a long time, alright?" out of my curiosity, I asked, "why?" but she didn't answer, instead, she just hugged me, tight, pulling back a second later after she had wiped her tears away, or was it just the sweat?

"He's, Uhm, he had to go do some important work —far far away, so we might not get to spend... spend time with him, do you understand cricket?"

I was still staring at her, mindlessly fiddling with the dusty brown teddy bear, clutch ung it so hard now, "but will he be able to call us?"

It took her a while to form a response as her lips shivered a little, constantly looking up, and her chest heaving up and down. "Yes."

Little did I know that it was the first of many lies.

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