It's Just a Dance || Bucky Barnes x OC

Chapter 1

Tw: very little mention of trauma and anxiety

—

Rue

"Some women fear the fire. Some women simply become it."
A quote from R. H. Sin.

My grandmother used to say something similar to me since the day that the accident happened. I always tried to live up to the things she used to say, but in the end, it was my fear that always won when I tried to become the fire.

"You are lucky to have a good childhood, Ruby, a good mother, and food to eat. You're lucky you don't have to experience the same things as your grandfather and me."

She was right.
But I guess they would never understand.
Someone understood, maybe, or at least I hoped there was someone out there who could relate to my situation...or not. I didn't know.

But if I still couldn't manage to talk to people about my trauma, I would never experience them comforting me in the way I needed them to. Besides my family, nobody knew how I felt inside.

And that scared me.

I was scared of growing up, even though I was already 19 and should act like a grown-up. I was scared of not having my family to comfort me, not having my little sister Ava whose smile can make every day a better one, or not having my big brother Steve, who was already at college and not home most of the time, but he'd always been there for me, and I loved him with the bottom of my heart.

Yeah, I was lucky, I guess.

I was lucky to have a family who understood me. But that was all I could count on in my life when it came to me being happy.
My best friend Alex, who I've known for almost seven years, didn't even know why I was thinking that way. Because it was not that easy to talk about.
I kinda felt ashamed, to be honest.
Ashamed of not talking to anyone besides Steve.
Ashamed that it happened at all.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of."

That was what my therapist told me a lot of times, and I hated it. That was why I didn't go to therapy sessions anymore. First of all, I thought it was fucking useless, and second of all, I hated the man sitting in front of me three days a week asking how I was doing.

Trauma and memories didn't vanish just because of the passing of time. No. They would slowly fade away if you tried hard enough. And I tried. I tried a lot of things, actually. Some of them were working, and some were not.
Therapy didn't help with my trauma or my fear - not really. But I think my family did. When Ava talked to herself when she played with her dolls because none of her friends had time to come over, mum when she read a book in the living room just with the tiny lights on at 1 a.m., my dad who made the worst dad jokes someone could imagine - every little thing they did, made me forget my fear.

That's why I was terrified of not having them around all the time and leaving them one day.

One day I had to move on.

One day I had to move into my own home with my own family - if that ever happened - and had to deal with my fear and trauma by myself.

Or that's what I thought, at least.

I was now 19 years old, and while other people my age got jobs, went to college, or fell in love, I still lived with my parents and my little sister Ava.
She was nine years old and appeared to be the most beautiful girl in the world. She liked swimming and her dolls, and even though she was ten years younger than me, we were sharing a room.

Alex told me one day that I should move my bed back into my old room because no boy would ever come over if I lived in a room full of pink books and pictures about fairies. She was not wrong, obviously, but I loved being with Ava any second of the day I was able to.