[2] instability ▷ bucky barnes

[6] ▷ hurts like hell

↯ D E C E M B E R 3, 1 9 8 1 ↯

"LOOK what you've done!" The mother yelled frantically, her eyes scanning about the small, bloody fingerprints all over the counter, and the tiny, reddened feathers scattered about her ten, petite toes. Tears streamed down the small girl's face as her mother shook her head in disgust. "Clean this up." She ordered, then left the room with a howl of distaste of how pitiful and filthy her daughter was.

She then heard her father's voice in the other room, protesting against what her mother was saying about her. "You can't push her back up your ass. She's our daughter, and you need to act like that. I don't know about you, but I care how she feels. I love my little girl." Seconds later, the door was creaked open and there he stood, his face painted with pain for the small 6 year old in front of him, balling her pure, now bloodied, feathers in her trembling hands.

He bent down to her level and swiped his finger over cheek, then pulled her hand open to take the feathers from her hands. "It'll be okay, sweetheart. Don't listen to what your mother says. You know I love you, right?" He said, and she shook her head yes.

"Good," He said, sitting the crumbled feathers on the counter as he bent down to pick up some others, not caring that his hands were getting dirty. After he sat the last of the feathers on the counter, he told Brexa to turn around.

She did as she was told and he pursed his lips at the sight, her brown hair matted into the blood coming from the open wounds in which her wings once were.

"Don't do this anymore. Your wings are apart of you, Brex. You can't change yourself, and if you can't accept how beautiful you truly are, know that I always will." At that, he kissed her head, closing his eyes as a tear fell from his eyes. Hugging her father back, a bad feeling formed in the pit of her stomach, but she looked over it, thinking it was just a tummy ache.

↯ D E C E M B E R 2 5, 1 9 8 1 ↯

"RISE and shine, baby sis," Brexa heard over her head as her eyes were reluctant to flutter open, a groan coming out of her small throat as she turned away from her brother again. "Come on, Brex. It's Christmas!! Santa left presents for us under the tree!" He exclaimed, happy even at his age of 11 for Christmas.

Hearing that, the 6 year old shot up and beat her brother down into the living room where she was met with the vision of small or medium sized boxes wrapped beautifully in different colors and some with bows. Brexa squealed happily as she walked over, hearing footsteps in the hallway as her father appeared in the doorway, coffee mug in hand and a smile on his face.

He looked at his son ahead of him and gestured towards the presents under the tree. "Go on, son. Open your gifts." He encouraged and Carl didn't hesitate to, the floor scattered with wrapping paper seconds later. Their father laughed happily as Brexa's mouth fell open in astonishment, holding in her hand a Barbie which seemed to be made by her father himself.