shield | b. barnes

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

[Corinna]

Click click click.

What the...

Click click click.

With a soft groan, I slowly peel my eyes open but shut them quickly when the bright lights burn my eyes. There's a constant throb in the back of my head that seems to increase as every second passes, but I ignore it as I force my eyes open once again. When my vision clears up, the first thing I see is that my limbs are restrained by metal cuffs that are chained to a metal wall.

Click click click.

"I swear to god," I mumble groggily with a scowl as I clench my teeth, "if someone won't stop the clicking - I will."

I hear a deep chuckle from across the room and slowly look up, blinking as my vision slightly blurs from the shift in my view. When it clears, I notice that Mark is sitting on a wooden chair. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying the familiar flame tattoo on his right arm. In one hand, I notice a pen that he continuously presses on. His left leg is placed on top of his right knee as he looks at me with a neutral expression, mischief dancing in his eyes. He presses the pen again.

Click click click.

I grind my teeth together in irritation, scowling at him as I swallow back a string of curses. The corner of his lip twitches as he notices my displeasure.

"It's about time you woke up. I was starting to think I hit you a little too hard and cracked your skull or something." Mark comments, standing up slowly.

"I wish you did." I mutter, tugging my arms against the restraints.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Mark replies. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't want to knock you out. If it were up to me, I would've just blindfolded you, but the higher ups didn't want to take any chances." Mark admits. He stops walking when he's a few feet away from me.

I look at him quietly, choosing not to respond. The urge to pinch myself is overwhelming as I stare into my supposedly-dead-boyfriend's eyes. Everything about him is just as I remember. The small dimple on his right cheek, his striking grey eyes - even his hair is styled the same way. It's almost as if he never left. 

"How are you alive?" I ask quietly, frowning at him as I stare into his storm grey eyes. 

He purses his lips, a small frown appearing on his face as he observes me in silence. I wait in anticipation, but his answer never comes.

"Now that's a question I'm not going to answer, Corinna." He replies, emphasizing my name as a smirk appears on to his face. 

As my name leaves his mouth, a rush of memories from when times were simple, happier, and lighter flood my mind. The overwhelming feeling of nostalgia and longing seems to linger as I quietly listen to Mark.

"Rumlow told me how you were my girlfriend - how we'd been dating since we graduated the academy." He explains, taking a step back.

I try my best to wear a neutral expression as I silently wait for him to continue. I already know that I shouldn't get my hopes up, but I can't help it. All this time I thought I lost Mark - my best friend - the one person that I saw myself spending the rest of my life with. 

Tears well up in my eyes as I can't shake the uneasiness that's in the pit of my stomach. Mark may be alive and well, but he's not the same person. He's not my Mark - he's someone else that looks like just like my dead boyfriend.