After nine days, they let me out of the cell.  I was dragged out by the wrists, but this time by two Russian men with bulky guns strapped to their backs.  This time I didn't try to fight for there was no point, they would just kill me.  I'm not ready to die, I thought, not when I just met Oliver.  Oliver hadn't come back after our first visit because he was busy with other assignments.  Or, at least that's what I wanted to think. I actually believed Oliver needed me as much as I needed him.  But, maybe he forgot about me.  Now, when I think back to it, I was useless to Oliver.  He would've gotten a lot farther in life if he wasn't taking care of me.  

I was brought into a spacious room, with brick walls and a cement floor.  This time there was a window, but it just looked out to another empty room.  Bright lights from the ceiling blinded me, for I was not accustomed to light after days in my dark cell.  The two men left me and I ran back to the door they exited out of it, pounding on it uncontrollably.  Old wounds reopened, and my hands were a bloody mess.  Giving up, I walked to the window, and I saw my reflection.

Although its quality was not the best, I had clearly lost pounds.  My face was sunken in and gaunt.  My blonde hair, which Papa had said looked liked the sun, was whitened to a dull colour, and my eyes were puffy and bloodshot.  I looked like a completely different person- and it terrified me.  My lip quivered, and suddenly I was in tears.

Then the door opened.

I turned around and asked weakly, "Who are you?"

"I'm just a man," the voice answered, and into the light emerged an older, American man. Nothing like the Rumlow or the other Russian men I had seen.  "I'm a man," he continued, stepping towards the table and sitting in the chair, "Who sees a scared, useless girl who could be turned into something useful. How would you like that, Miss Fleur?"

He knows my name.  That must mean he knows Papa. Or, knew Papa.  

"Your father and I were good friends," the man said, as if he was reading my mind.  He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, as if to remember good times. But, surely this man had something to do with Papa's execution. "You-" I began, but my voice faltered.  Finally, I made out the words:  "You killed him.  Why did you kill him?"

The man shifted in his chair, deep in thought.  Finally, he drew in a breath and replied, "Your father defected. Along with your mother, he abandoned us without fulfilling his missions.  He refused to kill bad people who were trying to take down Hydra.  But, abandoning what you swore your allegiance to is like abandoning your honour, and is punishable by death."

No.  Hydra was at fault here.  They are thirsty for world domination, they are what's evil in this world!  "Papa said you were evil," I said firmly, enforcing the belief that had been bestowed upon me.

Once again, he moved his chair, drew in a breath, and replied, "The world is in chaos right now, government systems are failing, people are starving, and yet they do nothing.  But Hydra has the answer.  After World War II, when we were supposedly defeated, Hydra has been regaining strength.  One day, we will fufill our goal and bring order and peace to this world.  Although we may have to get our hands dirty to do so, Hydra knows what the endgame is.  You'll see how we may have to make sacrifices for the sake of the world.  Your father was, to put it plainly, a sacrifice."

Tears poured down my face, but I wiped them away.  I didn't care what Hydra's goal was, I didn't care if they were the most charitable organization on the planet, my Papa was not a fucking sacrifice!  Adrenaline rushed through my body, and suddenly I was full of life again.  I glared at the man, and said very clearly, "No."

He smirked.  "I was thinking you'd say that,"

The door burst open, and there was the man who took me away from Papa and locked me in a cell.  He grabbed me with that arm, and pulled me out of the room.  As I was dragged past a room with nothing but a huge, menacing chair, I prayed that I wouldn't be put in that thing.

I was dragged past it.  Slightly relieved, I tried to focus on the next task at hand:  I needed to get to Oliver.   "Where are you taking me?" I asked.

No response.

I tried prying myself away from him, but he had a really strong grip.  Then, I noticed the knife on his belt.  With my free hand, I grabbed it.  In an instant I knew I could kill him if I wanted to, but something stopped me.  Taking another human life?  If I killed this man, I would be no better than Hydra.  But, I needed to buy some time to find Oliver.  Perhaps then I could think of a way to get out of here, wherever 'here' is.  During those few split seconds, I made a decision, one which I would regret for many years.  I stabbed the man.  In the arm.

And he didn't even flinch.

Because as I made contact, there was nothing soft the knife could sink into.  There was no blood, only a clanging noise as metal scraped across-  That's when I realized, the arm wasn't made of skin.

It was made of metal.

Before I could stab him again, maybe in the leg this time, he opened a door and threw me inside its room.  He snatched his knife away, and I heard the door slam shut from behind me.  Looking up, I saw the same jet black hair of the man who held my Papa at gunpoint:  Rumlow.

Rumlow laughed, and waved a black stick around in the air as if he were conducting magic.  With a malicious grin, he said, "You need to be taught some order, child.  And order only comes through pain." 

With that he jabbed the stick into my chest.  Fire seemed to rush through my veins, and I crumpled to the floor, twitching and shaking, doing any movement to try and get the pain to stop.  I let out a wild scream, and I cried so loud that even Rumlow looked a bit concerned.  But, over and over again I was hit by the stick, and over and over again I felt the fiery pain sear through me.  Eventually the pain stopped, and I heard footsteps walk out of the room.  I brought my knees to my chest and cried.  It was only a few weeks ago that Papa and I were living a happy life in our secluded house, not a care in the world.  But that heaven seemed like an eternity ago.  I felt myself slipping away- my eyelids were closing and my vision was becoming blurred and disoriented- and I thought I was dying.  But, I was ready.  I didn't fear it now, I welcomed it.  Oliver surely wasn't coming to protect me; no one was coming to save me.  

"I'll see you soon, Papa," I whispered, closing my eyes.