Eventually, Journey found an old motel owned by a little old lady who took pity on her. She guessed it was because her eyes were puffy from crying, and her stomach was growling. She would've just bought a room, but they'd taken her wallet whenever they'd locked her up. Once she got up to her room, she flopped onto the lumpy mattress and immediately fell asleep.

Journey stood, frozen in fear. Her father was standing in the kitchen, dark crimson dripping off the knife he held in his hand. Her little brother lay curled into a ball, sobbing on the floor. There were giant tears in the back of his shirt, and through the holes, she could see blood and torn flesh. There were also scars from past encounters.

Her father stepped over Adam, her brother, and walked towards Journey. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move her feet to run. Journey knew what was coming, she knew what would happen. Her father reached her and-

Journey bolted upright, out of breath and crying. Her hand reached to her back to gently touch the many deep scars on her back. Then, her hand moved to her right shoulder, where a branding scarred the flesh. It was a constant reminder of what she'd done up until only a few months ago.

She'd worked for Hydra since she was seven, and she wasn't proud of it in the slightest. No one knew except possibly Bucky. She'd trained under The Winter Soldier for some time before being transferred to her handler, Adal Fuch. Working as an assassin at such a young age wasn't easy, especially when half the weapons you used were as big as you. She'd been a small, skinny kid with scars littering her back. Of course, there weren't as many as there were now.

Journey shook her head to rid the thoughts and stood from the bed. She walked to the bathroom and wet a rag with cold water, washing her face. After that was done with, she felt much better. She left her room in search of a consignment store. Once she found one, she searched around for clothes that would fit her. Journey left the store in an entirely different outfit than when she'd come in.

She hated stealing from places, but if she was going to protect Steve, she had to do it. She couldn't risk someone recognizing her. Journey returned to the motel and offered to work for the lady if she could stay in the room for a little longer. So, that's how she spent the rest of her day, cleaning as a maid and working to fix different things that had been broken. She finished her work just as the sun was going down.

That night, Journey couldn't sleep. The nightmare she'd had the night before had taken care of any chances of rest for a while. Journey just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep bad thoughts and memories from her mind. After failing, she decided to take a shower. Journey turned away from the mirror before undressing. Whenever she looked at her reflection, the only thing she could see was a murderer.

She turned the water on as hot as it would go and stepped in the shower. The water stung her skin, but it was a welcome contrast from the freezing showers she took at Hydra. While she was in the shower, her thoughts wandered to Steve.

What is he doing right now? Does he hate me? Oh, gosh. I hope he doesn't hate me, she thought.

After her shower, Journey slipped back into the bed. She sighed.

This is going to be one restless night, she thought, once again staring at the peeling white paint on the ceiling of the motel.