When Steve saved her, he didn't think he would grow so attached. When Steve left her, she didn't think she'd survive.
(AU themes)
Steve x OC. Eventual Bucky X OC.
18+.
Janie took the scissors out of the professor's hand and cut the air with them. Then, she slowly began to cut open the man's clothes with her heart thumping inside her chest. The poor man was wearing an expensive suit - either Armani or Dior, she couldn't tell - but he wouldn't be needing it anymore anyway. Materialism really didn't exist after death. Not enough people realized that.
Then, he gave her a new pair of scissors, with long, sharp edges and fat finger holes.
Janie swallowed hard. This is what she wanted, right? What she had come in here for? Years of studying hard to get into a good school, doing volunteer work on the weekends, and don't forget all of the letters she had to write, by God, the letters and the application process, not to mention the psychological evaluations left and right.
The lower blade would slide through this man's gut like butter, then up the bundle of nerves at the solar plexus and into the weave of muscle and tendon above it into the sternum. Everything that once allowed this man to live his life would be exposed to the class to see.
Out of the corner of her eye, Janie could see two students quietly talking to each other. She couldn't hear them, but she had no doubt in her mind they were talking about her. She'd been the talk of the town and even though people had stopped asking her questions and telling her 'how sorry they are' to her face, they still whispered and stared when they thought she wasn't looking.
With shaky hands, Janie lowered herself towards the body. The temperature in the room seemed to have risen suddenly because she noticed tiny beads of sweat running down her back and sitting on top of her upper lip. Hot spurts of breath flew against the surgical mask that hid most of her face and Janie's hands shook considerably. She could feel several pairs of eyes burning holes into her back and let out a nervous cough.
"Are you okay?" The professor asked, his head slightly tilted and his full attention on her.
"I'm sorry," Janie squeaked, "Can I have a moment?"
He nodded, before taking the scissors out of her hands and motioning toward the door. It took all of Janie's strength to ignore her fellow students, whose pitiful eyes followed her while she stormed out of the morgue with her bag slung across her shoulder and her scrubs hidden beneath her winter coat.
That was the last time she would ever set foot in another mortuary alive.
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Janie sat on the steps in front of her old apartment building two weeks later. Small flakes of snow began to accumulate in her hair and stuck to her forehead, but the cold air that circulated around her face didn't phase her.
People left and right passed her by wearing thick, heavy coats, hiding their faces in wool scarves and hats to keep the snow at bay. Cars drove passed at slow, careful paces. They slipped along the ice, tires barely managing to grip the slippery layer of slush atop the concrete.
