I was bleeding heavily, mainly from my wounded abdomen.  Faintly, I remember taking my trench coat, feeling like I was going to pass out, and tying the sleeves tightly around my waist.  Quickly, I piled snow on top, thinking it would freeze the blood.  I staggered somewhere, telling myself that I needed to find shelter for the night.  My eyes were tired, my vision clouding and blending with the snow, and I tripped over my own feet.  Falling down a hill, I landed in a cove hidden from the wind's howls.  And I just lay there, my body was weak and cold.  Slowly, my eyes drooped and I was met with darkness.

When I emerged from my slumber, my body felt more at rest.  Stiffly, I sat up- my gunshot wound still felt like a ton of bricks had hit it.  I realized the snow had stopped, and from above I saw sunlight trickling into my hiding spot.  The warmth felt so pleasant against my frozen face, and I basked in the sun's glow.  Now that I was thinking clearer, it was time to treat the gunshot wound.  If anything, that would kill me.

Tenderly, I removed the trench coat and snow from my stomach.  Grimacing, I stared at a gaping hole into my insides, empty and red.  Blood still trickled out, except more slowly.  Suddenly, an anxious thought crossed my mind:  What if the bullet was still inside me?  Frantically, I probed at the injury, shooting pains firing up my chest like daggers.  But, sure enough I felt something foreign.  One thing was for sure, I needed to get that damn bullet out of me.

Hydra never taught us medical care; in their eyes, if we got shot we would have to deal with it or die.  However, I had a vague idea on how to remove a bullet, from a memory of one of Papa's history lessons.  It was about World War II, a German doctor crawling from soldier to soldier, dying himself, removing bullets and bandaging them with merely a surgical knife.  I loved Papa's history lessons, I just never imagined I would actually need to use them.  

Well, I did not have a surgical knife, I had my Hydra issued knife which I stole- close enough.  I pulled it out, and washed the dried-up blood with the snow.  Hopefully that blood isn't infected, I thought, knowing that a simple cleansing in snow would not completely rid the knife of germs and bacteria.  Gently, I placed the knife on my bullet hole, stretching my skin with its blade.  The pain of that made my heart race.  I felt the bullet against my flesh, and quickly I jabbed my fingers inside the wound.  Ripping it off aggressively, I screamed as I flung the bullet out of my body.  Blood spurted out of the hole, trickling down my clothes like a waterfall.  The bullet lay in the dulled snow and mud, a shining light contrasting nothing.  

I managed to bandage myself, using cloth from Oliver's trench coat.  Dizziness overcame me, and I collapsed to the ground once the task was done.  Tears came, late as usual, and I cried for myself.  I cried for Oliver.  "What do I do now, Ollie?" I whispered to the wind, as if my friend could hear me.  Papa instructed me to keep going, but what if Hydra was right?  I would not survive a day without Oliver.  Oliver's probably reached heaven by now, I thought, I hope Mama and Papa will welcome him.  They can be happy.

When Papa died, I was jealous of how he and Mama would be in paradise without me.  A wicked thought, I know.  But, when Oliver died I knew that I couldn't be jealous.  Like Papa, I didn't listen.  Now Oliver was dead because I didn't fucking duck when he told me to.  I didn't deserve heaven.  My purpose was clear now:  I wouldn't just be getting revenge on Hydra for Papa's sake, but now for Oliver's too.

A new energy took over.  I crawled over to the silver bullet and placed it in my pocket, a new keepsake to go along with my boarding pass and knife.  Then, I stood up.  I was weak, stumbling in no particular direction, but I was proving Hydra wrong.

I was surviving.

For five days I was lost in the woods.  Through cold blizzards I would keep walking, or be huddled by some tree for the night.  Frostbite threatened to nip my fingers and toes, fever and chills began to settle in.  Even during the coldest nights I would sometimes burn up, only to then be left shivering the next minute.  All this time, I moved blindly; which way was South?  Which way would get me to Fisher's Peak?

On the fifth day, I awoke in a soaking wet fit.  However, I did not know if it was from the night's storm or from my illness.  Sunlight glistened against my pale cheeks, for the first time in days.  The forest seemed so still, and it actually looked pretty.  The trees were covered sparkling frost; crisp, untouched snow surrounded me.  The sky was a beautiful blue-

As blue as Oliver's eyes.

Trust me, I had stopped putting my faith in any god a long time ago, but I still believe that Oliver was watching me at that moment.  Mayhaps he cleared the storm, so I could see.  And I did see something- clear as day- at a bottom of a hill.  Scattered and as tiny as flies, I made out the blockish shapes of a town.  There were few buildings, but it was a town!  Gazing far out, I saw the most amazing sight.  A black and blue body of water, stretching as far as the eye could see.  I had never seen something so vast in my entire life.  By some stroke of luck, I had found a town and an ocean.

Tears watered in my eyes as I whispered hoarsely, "I made it,"

I quickly got up, and with every last ounce of energy I had I ran towards the hill.  By the time I reached its peak, I was bawling.  Oliver should've been able to be here too.  And Lara.  And Papa.  They all deserved freedom from Hydra.  As I ran down the hill, the town suddenly became more than just specks far away, I made out houses and shops!  Soon those buildings grew doors and windows, comfortable homes with warm fires and a delicious smell brewing.  When was the last time I had food?

Finally, I reached the first farmhouses of the town.  Some kids were horsing around in the snow, playing in snow forts with snowballs.  They stopped when they saw me, I don't blame them, I'm sure I was a sight.  One boy my age, eleven, sauntered up to me and eyed my figure up and down.  He rattled something in Russian, "Привет,"

Not knowing the language at the time, I said nothing.

"You speak English?" he asked, accent thick.

My voice raw, I croaked, "Yes.  Where am I?" 

"What, идиот?" he laughed.  "You're in Russia!"  Another kid walked up to me, this time a girl.  Giggling, she whispered in the boy's ear.  Suddenly, more children were surrounding me.  Then, they grabbed their balls of snow and threw them at me all at once.  Shocked, I fell to the ground.  That was when the kicking started- they were whacking me repeatedly with their damn boots.  In a circle, they chanted the same word:

"Outsider, outsider,"'

No matter how many times Hydra punished me, forced me to do things that I didn't want to do, it did not compare to the sting of those words.  Back at home I dreamed of going to school, playing with other kids.  But, I couldn't even interact with these children- peers my own age!  The only people who saw me as anything other than an outsider were dead.  Maybe I had to be someone new, someone vengeful.  I picked myself up from the dirt and snow, and flashed my knife.  I wasn't planning on killing these children, only scaring them, and it did.  They took off like rockets.  Staggering onward, I continued making my way to the ocean.  

By nightfall I was feeling like hell.  My fever and chills had returned, making me weak in the knees.  When I passed people, I would ask, "Fisher's Peak?  Fisher's Peak?"  Finally, one man told me in choppy English that he was travelling to Fisher's Peak.  It was not very far from this town.  Almost happy, I thanked him prefusely when he offered that I could ride in the back of his truck.  He wanted to take me to a hospital, but I quickly interjected.  If I went to a hospital, especially in Russia, Hydra would find my whereabouts.  

When we arrived at another coastal town, stars glimmered in the sky.  A soft snowfall filled the air, and it was almost pretty.  The man dropped me off at the docks, and then continued about his business- but not before offering one more time to take me to a hospital or a police station.  I had no idea when the Crimson Night boat would arrive.  What if I had just missed it by a fraction of a day, and it won't be there for another three months?  I guess I would just have to wait and see.  

Minutes, hours, or days passed as I stayed huddled against a brick building by the wharf.  My illness worsened, but this was a poor town, nobody seemed to want to help.  Sometimes someone would give me bread and tea, though.  And damn, that tasted delicious in my state!

One night, just as the sun was setting, I saw a white speck amongst the dark ocean.  It's a glacier, I thought.  But, glacier's don't move that fast.  The shape grew larger quickly, and I began to make out the form of a boat.  I had read books with boats at my home with Papa, but they looked nothing like this.  This boat was glimmery, modern, and white.  Lights shone from the deck, and I gazed longingly at them.  The boat docked and I saw several men get off.  Seeing this as my opportunity, I stumbled towards them.  As I got closer I noticed they were all wearing crimson jackets.  And that's when I knew I had found Crimson Night.  When they saw me, they quickly pulled out their guns.  I fell to my knees, raising my hands in surrender.  "Who the fuck are you?" one said to me in an American accent.

Another stepped up, he looked about fourteen.  Just like Oliver.  "Leave her alone," he said.  "Probably another one of those orphan Russian kids."

I shook my head, saying in a whisper, "No, I'm not.  You have to let me on your boat."

The first man sneered, "We don't have to do anything.  We don't let filth like you on our ship."  He addressed the rest of his posse, "C'mon, the shipment's probably on the boat."  As he began to walk back to the ship, I let out a shriek followed by a fit of coughs.

"I have a boarding pass!" I wheezed, clasping my hands in prayer position.  "Please let me on!" I begged, tears streaming down my face.  That same man laughed and threw me a piece of paper.  Lifting it up, I recognized its pattern from seeing Papa count it; it was American money.  "Buy yourself some food, skeleton." he told me, and in a swift movement he shoved me onto my back.  I was defeated, all hope was gone, and I cried.  It's crazy how to think life swings back and forth, throws you a curve ball.

"Hey."

A sharp voice snapped the whole group of mens' attention away from me.  I sat up, but at first only saw a sihlouette.  Then, I made out a tall, slender frame.  Coming down the ramp of the boat was a girl.