She weilded a flashlight, and turned it on when she saw me.  She looked me up and down.  She raised an eyebrow and shook her head.  She was judging me.  I locked eyes with her, they were as brown as chocolate, but had a sparkle of gold to them.  In a way, her eyes twinkled at me- I had a feeling that this girl was someone who I could trust.  Maybe she'd be an ally, she was looking at me just like Oliver and Papa.  "What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

Then again, Oliver said not to trust the drug dealers.  Now I was confused, so I lied, "Olivia,"

"Bullshit!" the girl scoffed.  "Your real name, please, if we want to make progress here."

Gazing at the ground, I whimpered, "Elissa,"

She replied bluntly, "Well, Elissa, you look like shit.  But, from what it seems like you don't want a hospital involved."

I nodded.

"You're trying to escape somewhere, right?  You want to get on our boat?"

I nodded again, and tears welled in my eyes once more.  "I have a boarding pass," I said pleadingly, revealing a bloodstained sheet of paper I tried to keep so pristine.  The girl's face turned soft, and she looked distraught for me.  I thought I was seeing things, until she soothed, "Don't cry.  And don't listen to those assholes there, I'm getting you out of here."

"But, your father-" the first man exclaimed to the girl.

Grinning, she said, "I don't care, Tobias.  I'm gonna make this work."  And with that, she helped me up.  She lifted my arm over her shoulder, as I was still very weak in the knees, and helped me up the ramp.  "I don't think your father's gonna like this!" hollered the man behind us.  The girl stuck up her middle finger and whispered to me, "Don't listen to Tobias, he sucks up to my father at any chance he gets.  Elissa, I'm gonna take care of you.  I'm Trish."

"Trish," I echoed, voice raw.  Trish led me inside the ship, and the first thing I felt was warmth.  The temperature seemed to go up twenty degrees, and my hands and feet tingled with heat.  I saw some men cleaning their guns around a table, on comfy chairs by a fireplace.  They nodded respectfully at Trish, but looked perplexed at me.  "I'll explain later," Trish told them, ushering me down a hall and a flight of stairs.  A man serving as some sort of guard protected a set of double doors, but allowed Trish and I to enter.  After opening a series of more doors, Trish showed me what I thought was paradise.  There was a queen-sized bed, just like the one at the hotel!  It was complete with a colourful quilt and fluffy pillows.  I wanted to sleep in it right away, not caring who it belonged to, but Trish directed me into a door in the corner of the room. 

The door brought us to a bathroom.  The walls were white, the floor checkered, and the toilet and sink were sparkling clean.  Trish flicked on the lights, and I noticed that she too was sparkling clean.  She had copper coloured skin and ebony hair slicked back into a ponytail with bushy ends.  Her nose was wide, cheekbones were sharp, and her lips were luscious and painted with bright red lipstick.  Trish wore a red and black flannel tied above her midrif, with a black cropped tank-top underneath.  On her legs was a pair of skinny, black jeans.  On her feet she wore black combat boots, similar to my own (except hers were clean).  When I looked at myself, I felt utterly embarassed.  My face was peeling and chapped.  Where the Winter Soldier had cut my face, a vicious red line now stood.  Bags sagged under my red eyes, blood smeared across my face and clothes, my hair was dishevelled and practically white.  I looked like hell, I looked like garbage.  In this sterile bathroom, I felt like an outsider.  However, Trish said, "Have a shower.  There's soap and shampoo and stuff.  Take as long as you need, Elissa."

"Really?" I croaked.  Her voice sounded so gentle, so sympathetic, so unlike the harsh Hydra soldiers barking orders.  

She nodded at me and teased, "Well, who else would I be talking to?  Look, I'm gonna give you some privacy now."  And then she was gone.

Slowly, I peeled off the trench coats, followed by my training clothes and nightgown.   I stared at my naked body in the mirror, noticing how gaunt and white I looked.  Now I look like Oliver, I thought, remembering how once I feared this ghostly image.  The bullet wound on my abdomen was still open, but blood was no longer gushing.  I turned my attention to my trench coat, emptying it of the only possessions I had.  My knife, which I rinsed in the sink, the silver bullet, my bloodstained boarding pass, and Oliver's necklace.  I stared at the pendant, and decided to tie it around my neck.  To the air, I whispered, "Ich liebe dich, Papa.  Ich liebe dich, Ollie- I promise I'll find your family."

The hot water of the shower stung against my fingers and toes.  Blood mixed with water, and I couldn't tell if it was mine or Oliver's.  I pumped some shampoo out of its bottle and ran it through my hair, followed by some soap all over my body.  I wanted to scrub all the Hydra filth off of me, but at the same time I didn't want to wash away all of Oliver's blood.  That meant I would lose a part of him too.  Soon, I was bawling.  I srcubbed the soap against my hands so that it burned, and I drove an angry fist into the wall.  And I shook violently, huddled against the walls of the bathtub.  Ollie should've made it here with me, as we had planned, but now he's dead in some frozen part of Russia.  It was such an empty feeling, in a way my soul was still trapped at the Hydra base.  

After several minutes, I found the strength to pull myself out of the shower.  Dripping wet and cold, tears still sliding down my cheeks, I wondered if I should change into my Hydra clothes.  I didn't want to- it was Hydra dirt.  However, when I opened the door I saw a pair of brightly coloured pajamas on the floor.  The pants were long and cherry red with white stripes.  The shirt was white with matching red sleeves.  I put the clothes on, they were soft and warm, and I stepped back into the room with the bed.  

Trish was waiting on an armchair in the opposite corner.  "Look at you," she said, "You look a hell of a lot better already."  I nodded, too tired to think of something to say.  She walked right up to me and touched my cheek- I winced in pain.  Frowning, she told me, "Your wound's closing up pretty well, but I'd like to do stitches, just in case."

"Stitches?"

Trish laughed and said, "I'm good at them, I promise.  Done them lots of times on those boys you met."  And she was good at them.  She stitched my cheek and my abdomen, and put white bandaging over top.  However, Trish did ask, "What the actual fuck happened to you, anyway?"

I stayed silent, but she pressed, "Don't do that bullshit with me, I gave you a shower and clean clothes.  Why would I betray you now, right when we're about to leave this dump?"

"Hydra," I admitted.  "I escaped Hydra."

Confused, Trish inquired, "Wasn't that a Nazi death cult sort of thing that died  out in World War II?  Didn't Captain America take 'em down?"

Captain America.  There's a name everybody's heard before.  Papa just told me that he was involved in World War II, but died on a mission.  It was Trish who filled in the gaps for me, she was very interested in 'superheroes,' she called them.  Superheroes with nothing 'super' about them.  Trish would say that they were self-centred and only cared about certain types of people.  Anyway, I told Trish everything, ending with an explanation of, "Hydra's been in hiding all these years.  It's terrible, so I escaped with an associate.  A friend."

"Where is this friend now?"

I paused, tears welled in my eyes, and I rasped, "He didn't make it,"

"I'm sorry," Trish said, looking up from your needlework.  "It's tough to lose something you love, but try to relax.  You're safe with Crimson Night now."  I nodded again, but this time it was because I had no words left to say.  Trish directed me back into the bathroom, saying, "C'mon, let's get you fixed up."  She flipped my hair against my back, and it fell to my waist.  "It's too long," Trish murmured, "But such a cool colour.  I'd keep the colour, if I were you.  Can I cut it?  May help change your identity, y'know?"

Once again, I nodded.  Anything to make me less noticed by Hydra.  Trish grabbed a hairbrush and brushed through all my tangles.  The feeling gave me goosebumps, she was very gentle and had a delicate touch, so unlike Hydra.  She grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped away at my whitish-blonde hair, until it met my shoulders.  The whole time I stared myself down in the mirror, face twisted in a pained expression.  I used my fingertips to grasp at the finished product, noticing how light my hair felt.  I was a mix of happy and sad.  Happy because I felt anew and had moved away from Hydra, but sad because I looked different.  I wondered how Oliver would recognize me if I were to see him again; that was a stupid thought.  My voice cracked and faltered, and quiet sobs filled the air.  "You should get some sleep," Trish said, guiding me towards the bed.  

Like earlier, I wanted to dive into the blankets to feel warmth and comfort, but instead I asked, "What about you?"

Trish replied jokingly, "Don't fret your ghostly little head off worrying about me.  I'm going down to the bar for some drinks tonight- I'm probably gonna get hella wasted."  And so, reluctantly, I climbed onto the bed and sunk into its soft matress.  I lay my head on the pillow and pulled the sheets up to my face.  Then, I shut my eyes.

And I saw bullets ripping through Oliver's skin.  His cold, dead eyes staring at nothing.  I would never be able to say, "Oliver is my best friend,"  Instead, it would be "Oliver was my best friend,"  I saw blood, and the Winter Soldier.  An evil grin on his face.  I sat up and flung the sheets off my body.  The lights were off, but I could make Trish's tall figure heading towards the store, but stopping when she saw me.  Trish flicked on the light switch and darted over to the bed, where I was panting like a wild dog.  "What's wrong?" she asked in a worried tone- she was just like Oliver, being concerned for me.

"I can't... I don't-" I whimpered, heart thudding against my chest.  Gasping for air, it was like breathing through a straw.  Then, Trish did something unexpected.  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and said gently, "Look, I'm techincally not supposed to do this, but..."  Trish slid out of her pocket a silver box.  She flipped its lid open, and there was a cluster of green and white coloured pills.  In my hands Trish placed two of the morsels.  "They'll help you sleep," she told me.

For a split second I feared that she was going to poison me.  Could these pills kill me?  However, that thought passed in a fleeting moment.  I asked myself again, why would she be so nice to me if she was going to betray me?  Why would she let me use her shower, her clothes, why would she cut my hair?  "These will help you, I promise." Trish emphasized.

I swallowed the pills.  I quickly became even more drowzy and my head started spinning.  With a soft thud I landed on the pillow.  The last thing I saw was Trish moving away from the bed, and turning out the lights as she left the room.

Then, I drifted off into the most serene sleep of my entire fucking life.