The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Before: Chapter Three

A guard dropped the tray on the ground with a loud clatter and scampered out of the white prison. Assuming she was given three meals a day, she guessed it had been three days since the interrogation.

Marie stared at the only burst of color. It looked odd. She had seen an art exhibit like it in a museum once; she snuck into the back of a tour and wandered around for hours. She picked it up and resisted the urge to throw it at the wall. Add some color. She eyed the black band as she carried the food to her mattress. It only electrocuted her if it wasn't flush against her skin. No doubt someone's holding the remote, watching me.

She picked at her oatmeal, watching the watery clumps plop back into the bowl—paper, of course. Can't have a prisoner with glass shards.

Marie sighed and listened to the sound bounce around the room. She pushed herself off the bed and laid back against the cool floor, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Her fingers tapped against the floor.

Why am I here?

The question rattled around her brain. Why, why, why; that's all she could ask. She squeezed her eyes shut, hard enough to see fuzzy colored specks decorate the inside of her eyelids. What did I do to deserve this?

A voice cackled in her ears. What did you do? Where to begin... How about the fact that you set your house on fire and murdered that man and your—

Marie's eyes flew open. Memories flashed; she couldn't stop them.

Small hands rifling through files. Sweat. An elbow knocked into a beaker. Heat. Glass shattered. Anger. Papers scattered across the floor. Flames. Striped socks crouched next to them. Smoke. A mark. Heat. Sweat. Flames. Fire.

Marie jolted up. Her heart raced in her chest. Her body hummed with adrenaline. She pressed her head against her knees, pulling at her hair and its jagged, uneven ends.

"Stop it," she whispered and dug her fingers into her scalp. "Leave-Leave me alo-alone."

The door opened.

Marie watched warily as four guards marched into the room. Her gaze flickered from the guns at their hips to the two that approached her. They forced her up and pulled her forward. Marie ripped her arms out of their grasp.

"I-I can walk—I can walk on my own," she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself. The men eyed her but relented. She walked between them, uncertain as they pressed closer to her. Her heart crept up her throat. She swallowed thickly.

How it happened, she didn't know. Maybe her foot got caught on something, or the guard pressed too close, or her legs just gave out. Either way—one moment, she was walking; the next, she was falling and reaching out and filled with pain.

Marie shrieked. Her head hit the floor. The electric shock burned her skin and raced through her veins and lit her body on fire and raged from the inside out until it consumed her.

She felt the guards' presence before she saw them. Her hand shot out and their bodies flew back. She forced them away from her and held them there. Her hand shook with effort. A dull throb built in her head. Seconds ticked by before Marie could finally breathe.

Her grip relinquished. She pushed herself onto her knees and vomited. She shuddered. Something warm trickled from her nose. Blood.

Marie was too weak to fight. Her body was jerked upwards and dragged into the interrogation room. She only just caught herself before her head met the table's metal corner.