Rose Red (An Avengers Fanfiction)

Extra #2

Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep at night, I'd go to my shelf and pick out a book to read.

Some nights Loki would find me sitting in the living room, turning the pages. He's give me a kiss on the forehead and silently make a cup of hot chocolate before sitting down next to me.

We silently read together, hands entwined together.

I've loved books as long as I could remember. I was more than happy to escape to a world between the bound pages and ignore everything that was around me. My mother used to give me a book as a gift on my birthday.

When I was ten, she gave me the Harry Potter books. I finished them in three days and became of potterhead for life and learned that the best type of magic came from those who loved us.

On my twelfth birthday, I had gotten a copy of Pride and Prejudice. I learned not to judge so quickly and that pride was useless in the wake of life.

It had remained my favorite before being dethroned by a volume of Emily Dickinson poems.

The last book I had gotten as a present was on my fourteenth birthday. An old copy of The Hobbit that my mother had gotten as a child. I often wondered as a teenager if I would one day be able to go on grand adventures with friends and save the world.

Of course, childish dreams like that we're devious of reality.

It all ended that same year, I was whisked away by my father and the rest was, as they say, history.

The choice was easy, my life for my mother's.

I made it in a heartbeat.

I did the noble thing but there was no reward for my actions. I felt like a character from a fairy tale. Snatched away and never to be seen until a handsome prince comes to rescue me.

Only there was no handsome prince. It was just me, my fucked up siblings and my even more fucked up father.

At sixteen I became I killer. I became a villain, I did horrible things——something that would anyone else nightmares. And I did it because I had to, collateral damage should never be human life.

I truly lost myself. I had nothing other than my powers that I hated with a passion. They said that the darkest tunnels will have the brightest of lights at the end of them but I felt like my life was one long and never ending tunnel.

Light was nowhere to be found. Only blood.

And then I turned seventeen ; I was bitter and furious and in so much pain. Everything was falling apart and I was holding onto my sanity by a fragile string.

I killed my family. I took them out one by one, starting with my father and ending with siblings. Once I was done with them, I torched everything around me.

With what little power I had left, I killed the remainder of my fathers soldiers.

SHIELD found me dying in the dessert, chocking on my own blood. I don't know how I lived but I did.

Eighteen through twenty one were a blur. I don't remember much other then monotone gray walls, the sound of my heartbeat, and the Atlantic Ocean outside my window.

I locked myself away, scared of the world and of myself. I had done too much to go back to my normal life and I had no idea how to atone for such atrocities. Locking myself away, torturing myself with my guilt, and dying a slow death was the only thing that made it better.

If I couldn't punish them, I could punish my self.

Then when I turned twenty two.

And the rest was a blur after that.