SPARKS (Avengers x Reader)

Chapter 2

Trigger Warning: assault and abuse

You sit up, pushing the vines off you onto the ground next to the bed. You lay back down looking up at the roof, reminding yourself that it was just a nightmare. But it felt so very real. You roll over onto your side to try and fall back asleep. You close your eyes, but you keep seeing glimpses of your fathers bloody and bruised face, and your mothers body lying on the ground in flames. Her screams echoing through your mind. You decide its best just to get up. You doubt you will be able to fall back asleep now anyway. You turn on your lamp and check your phone for the time. 4am. You put your phone back down on the bedside table and sit up and look around at the mass of vines that covers the bedroom floor. You shuffle off the end of the bed and head for the loungeroom and grab one of your mother's old swords. These were the only things left of your mother's that survived the fire.

You walk into the dimly lit kitchen and rummage through some drawers trying to find a rubbish bag. You find a lone one and walk back into the bedroom and stare at all the vines covering the floor. Where to start? You bend down and start to cut up the vines, making sure to cut them small enough to put into the rubbish bag. It doesn't take you long to clear the bedroom of all the vines. You stand back up and take the sword back into the loungeroom and place it back in its stand with the other one. You walk back to the bedroom and pick up the rubbish bag now full of chopped up vines. You stop at the front door and slide on your slippers before opening it and heading down the stairs to the rubbish bins. You get to the bin and open the lid and start to lift the bag of vines into it, but you see in your peripheral's a man standing on the opposite side of the road staring at you. You slowly place the bag in the bin and quietly close the lid, still looking over at the man. You can't make him out completely, but you can see he is wearing a cap and a thick jacket. You start to slowly make your way back up the stairs, looking over your shoulder every few steps to see if the man is still standing there. He never moves.

You open the front door quickly and close it behind you and lock it hastily. You lean against the door for a moment before walking quickly to the nearby curtain and pulling it back slightly. The man was gone. Where did he go? Was someone really there? Was it just your imagination? You close the blinds back up and hope that you just imagined it all. You turn on the lamp that stands next to your lounge. You walk over to a bookshelf and reach for a thick folder. It is a photo album. It contains the only photos you have of your mother and father. You sit down on the lounge and open the album up; a piece of paper falls out of it. You reach down and pick it up. You turn the paper around to look at it. It's a newspaper article about your father's 'mysterious' death. You quickly turn it upside down and place it on the coffee table in front of you. You hated reliving that day. You having nightmares about it was bad enough, you hated reading what everyone else thought happened. You still have mixed feelings about your father and his death. He was violently abusive and emotionally manipulative, but he was your father at the end of the day. He provided for you and your mother and he did love you and her. But the day he found out about your powers, was the day he changed for the worst. He kept saying he had to beat the devil out of you. And he tried...every day, till the day you lost control.

You bring your attention back to the photo album and a photo of your mother. She is wearing cropped jeans and a white t-shirt. Her favourite denim jacket thrown over one shoulder. She is standing a field surrounded by flowers that you bloomed for her. She never feared your powers, she saw them as a blessing in disguise. She was probably the only person who same them this way, everyone else in your hometown had the same thoughts as your father. They were from the devil. They all thought that your father beating you was what was best for everyone. But you still wonder to this day, why your mother never protected you from your father, but didn't hesitate to protect you from the town folk when they came for you.