Winter's Wings (Book 1 of the Winter's Series)

Chapter Twelve: A Dance with the Past

I fully pull myself into the small space and carefully distribute my weight as evenly as I can. I slowly make my way to the back where the vent lies. I use the ill fitting screwdriver to try and loosen the screws holding the vent in place. It doesn't work so I use my nails instead and start to slowly make progress. I keep my ears trained for any signs of people nearing my room. I don't think I'll be bothered for sometime but I can't be too sure.

I've been working on the screws for what feels like several hours but, realistically only an hour or two have actually passed since I entered my room. The ache in my blood-coated fingertips has started to dull as the wounds heal closed again. Heavy exhaustion from focusing on more than one task simultaneously starts to eat away at me, causing me to battle with myself over taking a small break.

Slowly, I make my way back down to the bed and replace the panel and screws in case someone were to enter my room. I spit on my hands and wipe the blood off on my pants before lying down on the hard bed. I close my eyes and escape into my thoughts, a dangerous place to be alone. I wonder how long I have before an attempt on my life actually occurs. It can't be long now, too much time has already past. I try to rewind time in my head going back to my earliest memory.

"Try to match as many of these as you can before the time runs out." One of the many assistants who work here instructs me. She's one of three kind ones here. I don't remember her name though. There's over a thousand images on the screen and I have thirty seconds to match them all. As a five year old, I thought it was simply a game. Looking back I know it's one of the many tests they had me to. She always made it into a game, whoever she is.

I quickly try to match the images. I can feel the pressure in my chest as I glance back at the time routinely. My hands shake as the time winds down, I've only managed to match maybe half of them before the timer goes off. I hear a sign of disappointment from behind me, as the assistant comes forward to take the screen away from me.

"I suppose it's some improvement. Come on, follow me." She says extending her hand to me. Taking it I follow behind her with my head down. As we walk down the hallway I can hear hushed conversations of the other workers gossiping.

"I heard they put HIM back in cryo. I guess his mission was successful." One of the lab techs says to another.

"He scares me. Honestly I don't care if he ever comes out of cryo. If we mess up, it could be one of us who he goes after next. Just the sight of the metal arm is enough to make me shiver." The other tech replies. I cast a glance out of the corner of my eye, peeking at them. I catch one of their gaze and they grab their friend and pull them further down the hall away from me.

"We're here, little Eden. Go along sit with the others." The assistant tells me as she unlocks a heavy door.

"Others?" I ask shyly.

"Yes, others like you. Special children, you'll make us all proud one day."

"Will they like me?"

"They will in time-

The sound of the door unlocking snaps me back to the present. I eye the door cautiously, ready for a fight for my life. This has to be the attempt, it HAS to be. The door opens and a guard walks through with a food tray. Is it dinner time? Surely it's too early.

"Here's your food." They say placing it on the table. They walk back to the door but instead of exiting, they stand there. I sit up, never taking my eyes off of them.

"You're going to watch me eat?" I say cocking an eyebrow in suspicion. I'm met with silence and a steel gaze. "I'm not hungry."

"He's coming for you. Your time has run out. This is a courtesy." They say before leaving my room. If I didn't already know my time was limited, I might have felt fear. A courtesy huh? A scare tactic more like. I roll my eyes at the cliche-ness of the situation. Of course he'd send the most notable assassin to kill me. I don't know if I should be flattered at gesture or petrified at situation. I turn my attention back to the ceiling and decide to get the vent accessible. I remove the panel and crawl back to the vent. I push past the sting of my skin opening from twisting the screws loose.

It takes about 30 minutes before I can remove the grate blocking my way. I can finally crawl into the vent and try to figure out which way to go to actually get me out of the building and not trapped in another room. It's a maze, so many turns, so many dead ends. I need to get back to my room before I call attention to myself. Sweat beads at my brow as I crawl my way back to my room. My feet slap against the ground as I land. My clothes stick to my damp body and the air cools my hot skin down. I replace the panel as the sound of footsteps grow louder, someone is paying me a visit. I quickly return to my bed as the door is unlocked and open.

Coulson enters the room, his suit still remains free of wrinkles from his day working. I turn my attention away from him to stare at the ceiling. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Coulson." I ask monotonously.