I hurriedly made my way downstairs, my mind still reeling from the morning's events. My dads soon arrived, ready to take me to school. The car ride was filled with a somber silence as we processed the weight of the previous day.
School proved to be mundane and uneventful, yet the absence of my dads when the final bell rang left me feeling a sense of abandonment. I returned home, ringing the doorbell, only to be greeted by Sharon opening the door. Annoyed and frustrated, I couldn't help but ask, "Where are my dads and the others?"
In a tone laced with irritation, Sharon responded, "They went on a mission. And don't speak to me like that!"
Rolling my eyes, I retreated upstairs, determined to focus on my homework. However, Sharon's persistent knocking disrupted my concentration. Annoyed, I opened the door and questioned her presence, "What?"
Without warning, she forcefully took hold of my arm, leading me to what she called the "time-out bench." According to her, my dads had granted her the authority to punish me. And so, I found myself sentenced to an hour of isolation on the bench, contemplating the unfairness of it all.
Once the hour had elapsed, I escaped to my room, burying myself in the completion of my homework. Seeking solace, I sat on my bed, lost in the comforting glow of my phone. However, my momentary respite was abruptly shattered as Sharon burst into the room, catching me off guard.
Mockingly, I quipped, "Knocking, perhaps?" attempting to assert my boundaries.
Surprisingly, Sharon's reaction was swift and forceful. She seized my arm and dragged me into the bathroom, her intentions malicious and unclear. Fearing the worst, I couldn't help but protest, "What are you doing, you...you witch?"
Before I could comprehend her intentions, she callously subjected me to the torment of a freezing cold shower. Shivering and in tears, I endured the relentless assault of the icy water. Hours passed, and still, she left me trapped within the bathroom, unable to walk or open my eyes.
Finally, the sound of the front door opening broke the oppressive silence. Sharon's voice echoed through the house, summoning me downstairs. Weary and soaked to the bone, I descended the stairs, my eyes landing on Steve, who bore a visible wound on his arm. Fueled by concern, I approached him, intending to tend to his injury. However, upon noticing my drenched state, he reacted with anger and disappointment.
"What did you do?" he questioned sharply, his grip tightening on my arm.
Still trembling and struggling to find my voice, I managed to whisper, "N...No... that's... not true..."
Seizing the opportunity to further her agenda, Sharon interjected, accusing me of neglecting my homework and hurling insults. Steve's disappointment grew, and his once-trusting eyes filled with doubt.
"Is that true, Y/N?" he pressed, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness.
"N-No... I..." I stammered, my words choked by tears.
Sharon interrupted with conviction, reinforcing her version of events, "Yes! Don't lie!"
The weight of their distrust and my own overwhelming emotions collided, prompting me to gasp for air, tears streaming down my face. In a haze of anguish and desperation, I fled the confines of the compound, running as fast as my weakened body would allow.
Into the depths of the surrounding woods, I sought refuge, collapsing to the ground, wracked with pain and sorrow. My anguished cries pierced the stillness as I clung to the earth, feeling its coolness beneath my trembling fingertips.
Moments later, I awoke from my torment, the remnants of tears staining my cheeks. The sound of my name being called pulled me back to reality, and instinctively, I rose to my feet, running towards the familiar sanctuary of the cemetery. Falling to my knees before Mia's grave, I unleashed my grief, crying out in despair.
Suddenly, a firm hand grasped my arm, Bucky's voice shouting, "She's here!" Panic and confusion surged through me, and I fought against his grip, lashing out and shouting, "Let me go! I hate all of you!"
But the strength of Steve's presence, combined with Bucky's determined hold, rendered my struggles futile. Through the haze of my tears, I locked eyes with Steve, defiance burning within me.
"You trust your misguided friend more than me!" I shouted, the words tearing through the air.
Unbeknownst to me, Sharon couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "You're dumb and ugly!" she spat, her venomous words stinging my wounded soul.
In a desperate bid to break free, I managed to wriggle out of their grasp, propelling myself forward. Tony, quick on his feet, intercepted my escape, lifting me off the ground and carrying me back to the compound.
A heavy silence descended upon us as we settled on the couch, my arm still firmly held by Tony. Droplets of water from my hair and clothes fell to the floor, a visual reminder of my distress. I fought back the urge to react, to show the pain that coursed through my veins. But then, Steve's voice erupted, filling the room with his rage.
"What were you thinking?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. The world around me blurred as Steve pushed me against the wall, his anger palpable.
I trembled, unable to meet his gaze, my breath caught in my throat. Steve, determined to break through my silence, gripped my face, forcing me to look at him.
"The last time... talk to me!" he demanded, his voice a mixture of anguish and desperation.
Struggling to escape his iron grip, I managed to kick him, freeing myself momentarily. I sprinted to my room, my heart pounding, and locked the door behind me.
Steve's shouts reverberated through the house, his demands for me to open the door growing increasingly desperate. The weight of the confrontation became too much to bear, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Grasping the breathing aid, I clung to it, seeking solace and stability as I succumbed to exhaustion.
The following morning, I awoke at 8 a.m., though I remained in my room, barricading myself from the world outside. It was not until 11 a.m. that Steve, Bucky, Sharon, and Tony ventured into my room, their gazes fixed upon me. Avoiding their eyes, I continued to shed tears, my pain still fresh and raw.
"Stand up," Tony commanded, his tone authoritative. I complied reluctantly, my gaze fixed on the floor. Bucky offered me a plate of food, but my refusal was evident in my averted eyes. Sighing, he placed the plate on the table, a silent plea for me to take care of myself.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Sharon questioned my disheveled appearance, her tone laced with a mix of concern and annoyance. Still consumed by my anguish, I remained resolutely silent, refusing to provide her with the satisfaction of a response.
Determined to break through my walls, Tony declared, "You will have training today!" I let out a sigh, resigned to the inevitable.
In the training room, Tony's words hung heavy in the air. The weight of exhaustion bore down on me, making it difficult to summon the energy to fight back. As I faced off against Sam, I realized just how weak and drained I truly felt.
Sam launched his attack, his movements swift and precise. I struggled to defend myself, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. Blow after blow landed, and I found myself on the floor, defeated and vulnerable. The sting of failure washed over me, amplifying the pain I carried within.
But suddenly, Tony's commanding voice cut through the haze, ordering an end to the fight. I retreated to my room once again, seeking refuge from the world that felt so relentless. I locked the door, hoping to find solace in solitude, but my sanctuary remained fragile, easily shattered by the voices outside.
"Bucky... Steve," I heard my name whispered through the door, their concern evident. They continued to knock, their persistence echoing in my ears, imploring me to let them in.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally opened the door. Bucky's gaze fell upon my tear-streaked face, his eyes filled with empathy. "Y/N," he spoke softly, his voice laden with compassion.
I met his gaze, my eyes reflecting the storm of emotions swirling within. Behind Bucky stood Steve, a mixture of worry and remorse etched across his face. "Why won't you speak to us?" he implored, his voice filled with longing.
My silence persisted, a defense mechanism against the pain that threatened to consume me. I yearned to open up, to let the floodgates of my emotions pour forth, but fear held me back. Fear of rejection, fear of being misunderstood.
In the midst of my turmoil, Steve's frustration grew. He motioned for Bucky to step aside, taking a step forward himself. With a sudden surge of force, he pushed me against the wall, his eyes searching mine for answers.
"Talk to me!" Steve demanded, his voice raw with a mix of desperation and frustration. I struggled to catch my breath, my body trembling under the weight of his grip.
My gaze flickered away, unable to meet his penetrating stare. Sensing my withdrawal, Steve's grip tightened, desperation evident in his every word. "We need you to tell us what's going on," he pleaded, his voice laced with a vulnerability that mirrored my own.
Feeling trapped and overwhelmed, I summoned every ounce of strength within me and managed to break free from Steve's hold. I rushed past him, fleeing to the safety of my room, seeking solace in the confines of my own silence.
But Steve's voice followed me, echoing through the hallways as he pounded on my door. "Y/N, open the door!" he called out, his voice filled with equal parts concern and urgency.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation, I doubled over, my body wracked with sobs. Moments later, the sound of retching filled the air as I vomited, my body succumbing to the physical toll of my distress.
Unable to ignore the sounds of my anguish any longer, Steve's resolve crumbled. With a swift kick, the door gave way, revealing me curled up on the bathroom floor, my vulnerability laid bare. He and Bucky rushed to my side, offering comfort and stability as I struggled to regain my composure.
Carefully, they guided me back to my bed, tenderly covering me with a warm blanket. Steve stepped away briefly, returning with a small syringe in hand. With gentle precision, he administered a calming injection, hoping to ease the storm within my heart.
Bucky remained by my side, his touch a reassuring presence amidst the chaos. His voice, filled with empathy and love, broke through the silence. "Y/N, we're here for you," he whispered, his words a soothing balm to my wounded soul.