Hi guys, today I just stood out in the rain. I'm not sure why, I was feeling stressed and then I looked outside and it was hailing. So I took the opportunity to just go and stand in it, it was refreshing and peaceful. But very cold and wet! Anyway, it got me thinking. Maria Hill, would have missed the rain during her Tour in Iraq as a soldier. I also made this on my tiktok. So, enjoy!
2001 IRAQ, U.S MILITARY CAMP
They had all died, every single one of them. Except her. She was the lucky one. But she didn't feel lucky.
She could still taste the blood, the sand and the dirt. It was stagnant and dry. The coarse sand sunk deep into her lungs, she inhaled the dry dirt grains. It sunk into the tips of her fingernails, and stuck to the very roots of her hair. Surrounded by dead sand and well - the dead. She couldn't scream out for help, they'd hear her and finish her off. That's what they did to Sam. She heard him screaming for their commanding officer, Bryan, to save him. Sam should've known better, Maria couldn't help but throw up when she heard the gun go off. They shot him twice. The piercing ricochet of the bullets burnt into the very depths of her soul. One by one they were picked off, she heard Bryan being tortured over and over again. They asked him where the rest of his team was hiding, promised him a quick death if he agreed but he refused to give the names. They shot him several times, before finishing him off with a shot between the eyes.
Maria was hidden at the back of their camp, after the bombs went off she lost all sense of direction. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had been on patrol earlier with Bryan, their camp was secure. The US settlement was safe from and type of terrorist. But they were wrong. Whilst they were eating in the mess hall several shots were fired. Confusion filled all their faces, rushing to get their gear and defend themselves. But they weren't quick enough. A grenade was rolled into the hall. Her best friend Patrick grabbed Maria and shielded her. He lost a leg in the process. Her vision was distorted, her ears rang violently. She could smell burning flesh. She looked down to see Patrick's dismembered limb. Patrick shouted at her, screamed at her to leave him and run. But that wasn't who Maria Hill was. No. She was made of ice, and she was stubborn. She grabbed Pat by the back of his vest, and dragged his ass for as long and she could, out off the mess hall and into the desert behind the camp. She carried both of their weights in the sweltering heat, not shedding a single tear. She didn't have time too. She had to be strong.
Eventually Patrick and Maria had found shelter behind an old car, Maria had ripped off the sleeves of her U.S military uniform to tie tight knots around Patrick's leg. He was loosing blood and he was loosing it fast. They managed to stay hidden for fourteen hours. Patrick watched the soldiers coming closer, "God damn Iraqis" he whispered. Maria was too tired to even see them coming, her rifle was rested under her chin to keep her up. Her helmet beginning to fall to the side of her head, she had accepted their fate. But Patrick was a good man, and he loved Maria like a sister. "Fuck this Hill, fuck this". He fisted the sand, all fear wiped from his voice. He turned serious and faced Maria looking deep into her frozen eyes. "Hill, you listen to me. None of your stubborn shit!"
"Patrick-"
"No. This is an order. They are going to be here any minute. On the count of thee you will run!"
"NO!" she protested. She would rather die than become a deserter.
"Maria, for fuck sake. I only have one fucking leg and I'm pretty fucking sure I've lost too much blood."
"Patrick please-"
"NO! Listen to me, when they come I'm going to blow the fuckers up" he glanced down to his belt where a grenade rested, "Unless you want to become a part of our mess, I suggest you fucking listen". Patrick began to chuckle, Maria wanted to vomit again.
"Patrick you're my brother, I can't leave you" she whispered.
"Maria I've known you since you joined the army at 18, God, you were so scrawny then. Now look at you four years later. 22 years young! So much muscle on those bones now! I'd be damned if you let that life go to waste. I'm almost 50, technically an old man. Maria you're going to run as fast as you can okay, and you're going to do it for me!" he offered her a smile, it was genuine. Maria inhaled a deep breath, choking back on her own tears. She nodded.
They finally found them, rifles aimed at their faces. Patrick simply smirked, "Look at me, you fuckers!" he pulled the pin from the grenade, every ones faces turned white. "RUN!" he screamed at Maria. And so she did. As fast as her legs would take her. Within seconds the explosion went off, instantly killing Patrick and the others. It knocked Maria off her feet, she went flying. Hitting the sand brutally.
When she gained consciousness hours later she couldn't move. The sand was stuck to her body. She was breathing it in. Her eyes burned red and her lips were cracking from the heat. Only then when she looked around her, at body parts and blood painting the sand crimson, she allowed herself to cry. She cried until she had nothing left. Every one was dead, except her. Why was she alive?
2002 NEW YORK CITY, MARIA'S APARTMENT.
Her frantic pants filled the room. One hand clutching her chest, attempting to slow her breathing down. Sweat dripping off her skin, paralysed by her nightmares. By her trauma. She woke up, alone. In a dark empty room. Haunted by their ghosts. How could she let it happen? How could she allow her whole team - her family- to die?
Maria sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for the sounds of guns to fade away from her mind. Her eyes glazed over, images of her time in Iraq washed over her. She let out a gutteral sob. She was broken.
There was a gentle tapping outside her apartment window, so quiet you wouldn't even notice. But she did. Maria raised an eyebrow, the sound had pulled her out of her state. She followed it to the window, it grew louder and louder. The wind was howling, the rain was now hammering against the pavement. Hitting it harshly and rapidly, the skies were dark. A storm was coming. Lightning flashed in the background, illuminating the darkness. Maria smiled. She actually fucking smiled. She didn't bother to get changed out of her shorts and oversized top, she didn't even bother to put a coat on. It was a miracle that she remembered to put her trainers on before she opened her apartment door and ran outside.
There she was, in the middle of the street, laughing. The rain hit her face, relentlesy soaking her hair and her pajamas. She jumped up and down in it. kicked it. Sat in it. Raised her arms as if she was trying to touch the sky itself. She hadn't felt or seen the rain in twelve months. Twelve long months of pure agonising desert and the cruel heat of the sun. Maria realised in this moment that she would never take anything for granted again. Not even the rain.
She stood there until she turned blue, until she was shivering so much that she had no other choice than to go inside and get changed. The rain meant she made it back home. The rain meant that she was alive.
The rain also meant she'd never forget the ones she'd lost.
