Not A Bad Thing || Captain America/Steve Rogers [COMPLETED/BEING EDITED]

Chapter 25: Screams

My heart raced as I ran down the dark corridors of what seemed to be Shikhov's old building when I was working for him. Something was chasing after me, and all I knew was that it was mad. Terribly mad.

I quickly ran into an open office and hid beneath the desk, slowing my breathing. Loud steps trudged past the door, and the thing growled, sending shivers down my spine. I waited there for what seemed like forever, and stood up when everything seemed all good.

I crept my way out of the door, only to be snatched by a hand. I screamed as the thing dragged me down the hallway by my arm, like something out of a horror movie.

"Let me go," I pleaded, trying to wiggle out of the creature's grip. My voice sounded different, almost childlike.

As I tried to use my feet in a desperate attempt to stop myself from being taken by this thing, I noticed that there were purple fuzzy slippers on my feet. It was tiny feet, might I add.

I strained to look up at the thing that grabbed me. It was dark, and all I could see of the creature was its tall and slender figure. Their back hunched over a bit, as the ceiling was far too low for their height.

It looked back at me, and I snapped my head back to face forward before I could see its face. I looked up, and noticed that it was a very reflective ceiling. In the mirror-like material, I could see five year-old me. My face was red and I had tears streaming down my face.

We came to a sudden stop, and if I could remember correctly, it was Shikhov's office space. The creature let go of me, and I scrambled to get away. Before I could even crawl a foot forward, its hand snatched me by my pigtails.

The door creaked open, and I was thrown into a chair in front of Shikhov's desk. The figure walked around me and sat down in the chair in front of me. I closed my eyes before they could reach my eye level.

"Look at me!" the thing demanded, sounding just like the man who I used to work for.

Slowly, I took my tiny hands off of my face. My lips quivered as my eyes slowly worked it's way up to see their complexion.

The thing had unnaturally pale skin and it sickened me. Its chin was the same color as the neck, but soon was covered by a mask. The mask had tan skin, its mouth with a haunting smile, its nose wrinkly, and its eyes a deep green. It was Shikhov.

"What are you?" I asked quietly, tightly gripping onto the seat's armrest.

"Who you know the best," it answered, quickly morphing its mask to someone else. It was my dad. "Little Kylie. So small, so pathetic, so weak. You're a disgusting sight."

Those words echoed in my mind and seemed to weigh down on me as well. My shoulders slumped and my eyes overflowed with tears. When I blinked those tears out, the face changed.

"Landon?" I asked, the name burning my throat as I said it. 

Landon was my last boyfriend, the one I was so in love with that I almost quit being an assassin for him. He loved me so gently and so deeply that I thought that this was it for me. I didn't need more money and I didn't need to keep killing. I just needed him and I wanted a life with him. I couldn't have that if I stayed in the same profession.