Hours have passed since I ran, but there's no doubting that Winter is not that far away. In the past, I was able to detect his presence.. anyone's really, but to be completely honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. As I walk through dark alleys, I sense a few people around me and I just keep walking because they're harmless unlike me.

"A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here all by herself," a voice says as a figure emerges from the darkness.

I choose to ignore it and kept walking. My main goal of the night is to find a place to take cover. But that's when I feel a large hand wrap around my forearm, and a chuckle escapes the man's lips.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I warn the man, but he doesn't look threatened by me.

My right hand reaches for my gun that was attached to my belt, and I quietly took it out. The faint sounds of traffic and sirens fills the air, but the sounds of footsteps get closer to me. Before I could stop myself, I swung my right leg around, making contact with the man's head and he hits the pavement. I point my gun at the man, shooting him in the temple as blood quickly seeps from the bullet wound. Turning around, I came face to face with a group of seemingly angry individuals.

"Who's next?"

All at once, they came after me, but little did they know that I was one to never lose a fight. Quickly, I put my gun back in my belt and grabbed my knives, slitting the throats of the first two guys that approach me. Blood hit my face, but I didn't mind. My adrenaline is at an all time high, and I craved to kill each and every single one of these men. I threw one of my knives to the right of me, and I watch as it makes its way between the man's eyes, immediately falling to the ground.

Then, a strong force sent me flying back into the wall, and the last man standing stood before me with a gun in his hands. Now, if I wasn't the assassin I am, I'd be scared, but I try not to laugh at his actions.

"What kind of monster are you?" the man asks me, obviously scared for his life.

I bring my knife up to where I can see it and I spin it around through my fingers. "The kind you can't kill."

And then, I grab the gun out of his hand and throw it on the ground, leaving him with no way to protect himself. He starts to swing at me, but I dodge his punch and I turn around and jump on his shoulders. He struggles to breathe and his weak attempts to get me off are failing.

"This might hurt," I say to him before snapping his neck and jumping off his shoulder.

Five bodies lay on the ground, lifeless. Looking around, I notice how much blood I was standing it, and a smile formed on my face as I realize I didn't lose my touch. The sound of sirens begin to grow louder as I stand in the alley, and I know I have to start running again or I will get caught by someone other than the Winter Soldier. I find a ladder on the side of the brick wall, and quickly, I manage to climb up to the roof in the matter of seconds. Moments later, the police and paramedics arrive at the scene. You better not get caught. Find a place to hide and by all means, do not let Winter find you. And for once, I actually listen to the voice in my head.

Walking away from the edge, I look around at all the rooftops I can see, and something catches my eye. The glimmer of light shining off a piece of metal. A light of a helicopter briefly shines in the area that I focus on, and that's when I see him. His dark hair blew in his face as his eyes stare in my direction, and cybernetic arm glistens with the passing of headlights. He was far away enough that I have the time to get away, but I froze in my place, my eyes focused on him. I know I have to find a place to hide without him or the authorities finding out where I am. I turn and full out sprint to the other side of the building, jumping over the ledge and onto a truck that I luckily saw for a split second before I jumped. The driver didn't seem to notice, so I lay flat on the roof, waiting to get away from the crime scene.

***

Opening the window to a random apartment, I swing myself into the room, landing on my feet, but I do everything silently, cautiously examining my surroundings. My feet quiet with every step I take in this place that's dimly lit by the moonlight. For a moment, I stop in front of a door that's cracked open and I listen for any signs of life. No sounds in this apartment, but just make sure you check, just in case. Pushing the door open, there's not a person to be found, but I know I just got lucky this time around. For the time being, this is going to be my so-called "safe haven".

As my eyes were adjusted to the darkness that swept this apartment, I'm blinded as I turn on the lights. The apartment is very generic. There's a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a single bedroom, but I'm not complaining. This is more than I've ever had. And when it hits me. Pictures flash through my mind like a motion picture. My mind is trying to tell me something, but I don't know the answers. It's like my past self is trying to break free, hoping to tell me some kind of information that will change my life. A girl in a lab coat is a recurring picture that I've dreamed about once before. She oddly looked like me, but at the same time, it didn't. She seemed happy and for that, we are completely different.

The memory starts to get under my skin, only making me want to forget every detail of the image. That's not me. How could that be? This is the only life I've ever known! Before this all started, I know I wanted to learn the truth about who I was before came the assassin that I am today, but now that it's slowly coming back to me, I fear what is to come. I can't take my guard down because what if I'm caught and I can't bring myself back from it? Questions like this swarm my mind like people in a crowded city street. An overwhelming sensation takes over my body, I crave to see my own reflection, and I bolt to bathroom, turning on the lights in the process.

"возьмите себя в руки. вы не в состоянии эмоций, вы знаете, что, (Get yourself together. You're not capable of emotions, you know that)," I yell at myself in Russian, knowing that that's the language I truly believe to be my first language, but I'm not so sure.

Snap out of it. None of this is important.

My hands grip the sink, turning my knuckles as white as a ghost. Staring at myself in the mirror, it's like I can't even recognize the girl staring back at me. My long, dark brown hair is in two french braids that I don't remember ever doing, but blood and dirt cover every aspect of the color it should be. A flash of bright blue eyes from the girl in my memory resurfaces for a second before quickly disappearing. And when I look into my own eyes in the mirror, they look of a dull and lifeless blue. Who am I? I can feel the anger rising from within me, and I've never been able to control these sudden outbursts of rage, but I know I can't stop it now. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror one last time before I raise my right fist and punch the mirror.

You're weak. You've never been good at anything, that's why assassinating people is your last resort. Admit it, Red? You're too scared to learn the truth.

"Shut up!" I yell, laced with hatred and malice.

As the glass shatters everywhere, pieces dig into my uniform, piercing the skin of my forearm. Quickly, I manage to peel the jacket off my body, revealing the blood oozing out of the wounds on my hand and my forearm. And in a dark and twisted way, seeing the blood is like paradise to me; like it's the only thing that can make me happy even if it involves death. Like bathing in the waters of paradise, where nothing exactly matters. But at the same time, I'm covered in the blood of the men I've killed in the past few hours. Grabbing the rag that hung up beside the sink, I soak it in water and then, start violently scrubbing on my skin, trying to make the blood go away. It's like I keep washing my hands, but the blood won't come off my body, it's my own blood. 

Without even thinking, I throw the rag into the sink and open up the bathroom closet, grabbing two towels, and throwing them on the ground. I pull my hair out of the braids and rip off the disgustingly filthy uniform off my body. Turning on the shower, I step in, not caring that the water is as cold as the Arctic Ocean. Looking down, a crimson color covers the ground beneath me, and I attempt to wash it all away until my skin is pink and raw. Even though I might look clean, the blood will forever be on my hands, but what if I wanted it to be on my hands in the first place? I've always been a killer, haven't I?

A/N- hello, friends. i've written so much for this book that i think it's become an obsession, but i don't mind (: - kenzie