CHAPTER SIX

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CHAPTER SIX; UNTITLED EMOTION 

Even my reflection made me feel torn

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Even my reflection made me feel torn. I stared at myself, in the bathroom of our grand hotel room, and I found myself glued to the marbled floor. My towel and set of pajamas Nat left for me were still on the counter, but I couldn't move the second I flipped on the lights and got a glimpse of myself after Nat left me to shower. The girl in the mirror looked both frightening and frightened. Her eyes were filled with a chaotic storm that brewed far passed her dilated pupils. Her skin was pale, her lips chapped. I hadn't seen this girl look back at me for too long. Too long to remember.

There were no mirrors at the secret base. There was a rule against seeing your reflection, something about seeing all the things you didn't want to face. My bathroom at base was made up of four dark concrete walls, a shower, toilet, and sink. This room that I stood in now had a wall length mirror and I couldn't run away from myself. Not anymore.

I tried moving again, to turn the water on and splash my face with some refreshing liquid, but the more I wanted to move the more I saw it. I saw all the kills, all the blood, all the victims. They haunted my reflection, reminded me of what small part of myself I was running from. The small part of me hated myself, the one I had spent years burying; the one that cried herself to sleep, the one that was haunted by her victims, the one that yearned for a normal life and an escape from the torture of being an assassin without a brain was staring back at me. She hated me. I hated myself for doing the one thing I loved. I loved the idea of killing who I needed to, I loved that I was able to and knew how; there was some sort of freedom in taking someone else's life.

But, the part of me that was staring back at myself continued to replay the way Tony looked at me today after he saw the mess I'd made in the alley, my note I left. There was fear and.. disappointment in his eyes, I had never been looked at that way before. That part of me saw myself as a monster and I wanted so badly for it to go away. In all my years at the base I had never felt so split down the middle and icky. This feeling was maddening. I realized that the passed ten years of my life HYDRA made me believe what I was doing was benefitting other people, they made me believe I was born to kill, when in reality they created me to kill. Tony was right, I was just some killing machine.

"Woah, I had no idea this was still my room, I thought that door was a closet!" I heard Peter's excited realization from outside the bathroom.

My reflection was crying at this point. My fingers wrapped around the counter and my knuckles were white. My hair was still brown, my cold palms were sweating. I could feel my lungs working overtime and they ached by the time Peter pushed the door open.

His eyes locked with mine in the mirror.

The small gesture of him opening his mouth made me turn away from my internal conflict and wipe my tears away. "Peter," I couldn't finish my sentence, my breathing doing all the work of trying to get oxygen through my sentence. I wanted to tell him to get out, to threaten him and make him leave. That small part of me that began to grow wanted the opposite.

An Assassin Without A Brain ₁→ PETER PARKEROnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora