There are demons in the girl's head. They make her wish she was dead.
Two years ago, the infamous Tony Stark told the world that he was Iron Man and that came with consequences that his precious daughter, Lisa, had to suffer. Despite all odd...
let go of the wheel, it's the borderline now i'm seeing red, not thinking straight never be the same — camila cabello
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shield helicarrier may 3, 2012
I somehow find my way back to the lab and, after he lets out a very large and very dramatic sigh of relief, Dad has me working again.
Oh, what joy.
An unbearable amount of time passes.
Someone clears their throat and I have no problem looking away from my work so that I can see who's waiting by the door. Phil Coulson, my wonderful Mr. Friendly Face, stands there with his usual small smile. I grin and spin in my chair so that I can face him completely. Bruce doesn't pay much attention; he's still caught up in his work, but Dad looks up too and he smirks as if he knows about some big secret.
"Change your mind? Wanna hitch a ride to a certain city to see a certain lady?" Dad raises an eyebrow at him, mockingly.
"Oh, Phil," I grin wider as he blushes just a bit, "Does my favorite agent have a lady friend?"
"Does my favorite sixteen year old," oh yes, he just said that, "have a man friend?" he shoots back with ease.
Oh Lord, I want a man friend. And now I want to cry. My excitement dies a miserable, pitiful death. My shoulders fall and I don't respond.
Dad scoffs, waving his hand slightly, "Psh, nah, she doesn't."
That's a low blow, Phil, a really low blow. And then Dad's easy answer of 'no' just makes it worse. Listen, I'm attractive looking, well, I hope I am. I'd love to have a boyfriend. Really, I would. But not a lot of guys are lining up to date a girl who could turn around and accidently murder them. Then, also, most of the boys I've ever met are a little intimidated by my dad. Then there are the few others who are just chasing after me only because of my dad's status and my inheritance. So, let's just say that my love life has been lacking these past sixteen years. Besides, as much as I'd enjoy it, I don't know if I'm exactly ready to have a boyfriend. I've just been so caught up in my life, with my dad, and with all the guys who keep trying to kill us. To add something else to the list just seems like a lot of work.
"Wait, you don't, do you?!" Dad turns to me sharply and I realize that my lack of a response could sound like embarrassed agreement.
Something weird happens then. A familiar, dark boyish face suddenly appears before my eyes and I feel myself smile a little before I flash back in memory for the second time in less than a week.
"Alright, now pass me the gunpowder," I stuck out my nine year old hand as I leaned over the pipe I had pulled out from underneath the hotel bathroom's sink.
