Chapter 48 - Recalled

                                    

                                          
Sleep does not come easily at the safehouse.
For hours you toss and turn in a creaky, wooden bed smothered by a scratchy, twin-sized quilt. The air is cool and sweet, but between the blaring chirps of the crickets outside and the gnawing fear in the pit of your stomach, it's impossible to fall asleep. Finally, sometime between when the stars fade and the sun wakes, you fall into light dreams plagued by long white coats and bloody palms.
"Wake up, Experiment 2981."

Your pulse races, and your dreams shift. Hands grab and pull at your clothes, your hair, your arms. Screams echo around vacuous cement rooms. A single, blue eye peeks through a crack in the wall and speaks in a deep voice that teaches you how to count the drops of water. 
Hopelessness. Fear.
"I said wake up."
Your eyes fly open, unable to see anything beyond dark figures looming above you. Your heart races as a familiar voice whispers in your ear.
"Good. You still obey."
No, no it's impossible.
Now awake, eyes wide open, a masked face comes into view. You lurch to the side, adrenaline surging through your veins as your arms are pinned to the bed. You ready your lungs to scream when a massive hand covers your nose and mouth. You flail, struggling against the grip that has you pinned to the bed. But before you have a chance to truly fight you are bound at the wrists, knees, and ankles, being shoved up in your bed.
"Quiet. You wouldn't want to wake the others."
Lifting your head, slowly, you come face to face with none other than The Doctor - your caregiver, experimenter, and torturer for the years you were held in the experimentation lab.
"No," you whisper. "You're not real...you can't be real...you're dead."
"Ah, my dear. Don't you know better? Cut off a limb, and two shall take its place," the Doctor whispers quietly in your ear, extending one finger and tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from your braid behind your ear.
You quickly inhale, preparing to cry out for help, when once more a large, gloved hand covers your mouth and nose.
"Now, now. Before you act rashly, my dear, consider your options."
As he speaks the Doctor steps aside, revealing an unconscious Clint bound and gagged on the floor as a single stream of blood trickles down his temple. And behind him, a tiny, frightened Lila Barton - her ruddy cheeks covered in tear stains and her mouth covered in duct tape. A HYDRA agent holds a knife to her neck so tightly that you can see the little girl's skin already beginning to split. You breathe heavily through your nose as the man's hand on your mouth prevents you from talking. Desperately, you grunt and shake your head. He removes his hand.
"Please, please let her go," you cry, your voice breaking.
"That can be arranged, the Doctor croons, running a single, gentle finger down your cheek and wiping away a tear. "But only, of course, if you come quietly."
You shudder against his touch as your stomach churns. "I-if I go with you, you'll leave everyone here alone, unharmed?" you stammer.
"Of course."
"I don't trust you," you seethe.
"Have I ever lied to you?" The Doctor challenges. He smirks as he watches your face fall. He knows he always keeps his word - even if it isn't exactly in the way he would have led you to believe. Like that last recall you witnessed before you were saved. The mother who gave up her son, only to be killed for her efforts.