stoneheart ; 𝐭. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 , 𝟐

05 | bonded

february 2019

MY NAME IS Jack. My name is Jack. My name is Jack.

Like a mantra, she repeated the same four words in her head as she trained. There wasn't much to do besides push-ups and the occasional plank, but she did anything and everything that made her heartbeat rise, moving herself to muscular failure every day before allowing herself to rest. For the first week, it took less than fifteen minutes to wear herself out, countless months of inactivity atrophying her muscles and leaving her in an unrecognizable shell of a body.

Nearly a month and a half later, she found herself exercising for a few hours each day, unable to stop before she was exhausted, watching beads of sweat drip from her nose to the concrete below her bare feet. 

When her six guards came in to change her glorified chamber pot and bring her meager serving of food, she was at first surprised to see that none of them were suspicious of her fatigued appearance. In fact, they looked at her with the same disgust they always had. It was as if...she never got that far, as the remaining half of the thought was too dangerous, too terrifying to even consider. It was as if they knew what she was doing.

Jack wasn't sure when it happened, but something inside of her had snapped. She was no longer a pitiful excuse for a human being; she wouldn't—couldn't—let herself become such an embarrassment. She didn't know anything but her name, the name of a man she inexplicably trusted, and a man that had held a knife to her throat when she first arrived. She knew nothing, and yet she knew one more thing.

She had to get out of this hell. She had to leave this place, and she couldn't do that if she was a crying mess on the floor of her cell. So that was why she trained every day, doing all she could to make sure that she would never fall victim to whatever havoc these people planned on wreaking. 

Jack was still broken, but she was finding the way back. Slowly, one drop of sweat at a time, but she was forcing herself back into the body that she knew had been powerful. She had been the most dangerous human on the planet, she knew that. And right now, there was nothing for her to do other than try to find the person she used to be. Bring her back, and use her to get herself out of that place.

Maybe you don't deserve it, that sniveling voice always returned, just a few times a day, but always at the least opportune moments. Maybe you're just a monster, and you're hiding it from yourself. Maybe you really are an abomination, a rabid dog that they're trying to put down.

It became easier to shove the voice out of her head, however, a small blessing that came with a strengthened body. As her muscles formed again, lithe and taut on her frame, her mind was stronger as well, moving faster than the sluggish pace it had been functioning at for months on end. She was thinking deeper, pushing herself to her limits, planning more articulately, coming up with a way to break out of this prison and find Tony, whoever he was to her.

———

The day finally came for her plan to hatch. She had no clue what day it was, or what year she was in, but she knew that it had been long enough since her last attempt. Things had settled down, and only four guards had been showing up for the last two weeks. If they had sensed any danger, they would have done something by now. She was trusted, it seemed. Trusted to remain complicit, trusted to do nothing but what they demanded of her.

Oh, how she'd fooled them all. It was a certain kind of adrenaline that rushed through her veins at the thought of it, a rush that felt familiar to her. 

Help me, she spoke inside her head, to whomever she thought was there. She didn't know how she would explain it to someone if she were asked, but she knew that there was someone, some type of disturbance, in the wiring of her brain, listening to each word she spoke. Help me get out of here, if you can.