I had no idea what time it was. The curtains were pulled over the windows sealing me in darkened room. I didn't remember how long it had been that I stared at the wall where the covered windows were. Books and journals were spread across my side of the bed in order to help me jog my memory. It had been a little over a week since I had woken up. And I had shut myself in the guest room away from everything. Some days I never left the room. Sometimes I didn't bother eating, I wasn't hungry. Steve gave me space, but tried his best to come in and interviene. I turned him away, over and over again. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want him seeing me.
Most days I'd sleep, a dreamless sleep, and wake up scared and alone. And when I was awake everything ached. My head hurt with all the voices and noises of the world. My stump of a leg ached, and was endlessly sore. It was swollen and gross and I hated seeing it. My body itself felt broken, I was weak, and so incredibly empty. It hurt even when I couldn't feel anything, or maybe it hurt because I was feeling too much. I couldn't do anything, I couldn't. Getting out of that bed seemed like a task I couldn't do unless I absolutely had to. I hadn't spoken a word to anyone in days. I hadn't eaten a full meal in months. I hadn't walked outside on my own since before the accident. I had shut myself in because I couldn't possibly cope.
I was disgusted with myself, but still not motivated enough to do something about it. I was fine wasting away. I was tired of feeling awful, I was tired of feeling empty and exhausted. I was so exhausted of the constant pain I was in. At one point the only thing I was motivated to do was to end it all. I figured a thousand ways to do the deed.
One day, when I figured that was it. I was done. I pulled the covers over myself and squeezed my eyes shut. I don't know how long I laid there perfectly still when I heard the door open. I heard the shuffling of the books and journals being tossed off the bed. And then the bed dipped down with the weight of a man I once knew. He kissed my shoulder and pulled me to his chest. The warmth from his body was something I used to know.
"I love you," he whispered into my ear. He kissed the back of my neck and if I had hair he would have started to play with it. "I love you," he told me over and over until I started to cry.
His grip around my middle tightened and he pulled me even closer to him. My body shook with sobs and he absorbed them all. My nose was runny and my tears were soaking down his old shirt and down the bed and he turned me and wiping them off. I pushed him away and he leaned closer.
"Anna it's okay. I'm here, and I will never leave you." He promised me and I remembered kissing him and promising the same a life time ago. I gripped the front of his shirt and curled my body into his.
'Go away.' I told him in his head because I don't think I could have said it outloud. I haven't spoken to anyone in days. His posture sank at my request.
'I'm not leaving,' he argued answering me in his own head.
'Go.'
'No.'
'Steve,'
'I'm here,'
'Steve,'
'We can do this. Let me help you, you cannot live like this Anna,' And maybe one day he'll know how truly empty and desperate I was that day he pulled me into his arms. Maybe he already did.
'Just leave me alone.'
'I can't, you're worrying me too much. You look like you're starving, you smell like you're already half dead. You look paler than a piece of paper. You're a complete mess. And it's time to fix that.' Wow. How motivating.
'Tomorrow." I whispered outloud. Steve's body jolted at hearing my voice for the first time in a week. He glanced down at me, and the corners of his mouth lifted just a bit. His eyes were bright, and he almost relaxed. He was hopeful for the first time in months.
"It starts today."
"I can't Steve."
"Yes you can. Let's take it one step at a time okay? How about we start with a shower." I could barley get up without breaking a sweat. I got winded just walked towards the kitchen. I didn't want to get up. I didn't have the energy. I rolled over away from Steve and pushed the covers up.
"No, no. We're not doing this." Steve chided like I was two years old. "You can do this Anna. You'll feel so much better." No I wouldn't. There was nothing in this world that would make me feel better.
I could deal with the state my body was in. I could adapt to a prosthetic leg easily. Plus I had two geniuses in my corner that would design an exceptional prosthetic for me. I could deal with how weak I physically was. If I pushed myself, I could gain my weight back. I knew how to workout properly and gain back muscle. That was easy enough. I was fine with my new scars littering my body. Most of my friends carried them too.
What I couldn't deal with was the state my mind was in. It was a nightmare. The sounds I was hearing bombarded my brain. I could easily tell you what everyone in the entire tower was thinking, and saying for that matter. I could hear a conversations people had outside the tower. This was New York, it was traffic heavy with millions of people. And from the people walking by the tower, to all it's inhabitants, I could hear everything they were doing, saying and worst of all thinking. This was going on all at one time. My head sounded like a thousand people talking over each other. And I couldn't turn it off. Before HYDRA, I was able to control who's mind I heard. Before HYDRA, I had super hearing, but I wasn't plagued with having hearing strong enough to know the sound of a dog's heartbeat outside the tower stories down. This was the worst part. This was the part that made my life unlivable.
It took about an hour to convince myself Steve was right. I needed a shower. I would feel better. Steve carefully watched as I slowly sat up. I moved my leg over the side of the bed, and forceable brought the other one with it.
"Do you want help?" Steve quietly offered. I didn't answer but slowly got up. The carpet felt soft under my foot. I grabbed the crutches next to the bed. I could go to the bathroom. My body felt exposed as I moved through the room. It was cold. Once I got to the bathroom I shut the door and leaned against it catching my breath.
Taking a shower as another issue. I thought about sitting down. I ended up taking a crutch in the shower with me to help some. My shower ended up being almost an hour, purely because it was soothing to feel clean and to let the water wash over my exhausted body.
I turned off the shower and cautiously got myself out and dried myself. I brushed my teeth. I put on lotion. Steve was right, I felt mounds better. I felt so fresh. I wrapped the towel tightly around myself and opened the bathroom door. I swung back into the bedroom and was confronted with our kitchen table in the middle of the room.
The guest bedroom was smaller than our master obviously. It only had room for the bed, a dresser, a desk and a matching chair. I had no idea how Steve got our kitchen table in here. But he rearranged the furniture, taking out everything in it except the bed. He also opened up the curtains letting in the sunlight. It had to be around noon.
Steve sat reading a book in a chair that at the table trying to act like he didn't notice me coming out of the bathroom. I took a seat in the chair next to him. I adjusted my towel and stared at him. He caught my eye and grinned. He put the book down, and momentarily left the room. He came back bringing a bowl of something.
"It's a smoothie bowl." He explained setting down a bowl. It looked like a smoothie in a bowl with granola, banans, strawberries, and blueberries topped on it. He handed me a spoon which I took.
"It's strawberry of course." He said almost nervously. Strawberries were my favorite fruit.
Before I took a bite, I placed my hand on his. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you," I whispered. My voice was horse from not using it for awhile. It felt weird hearing it outloud. But I wanted to make sure Steve understood how much I appreciated him. He was so thoughtful. Too much so. I didn't deserve him sometimes.
We sat in silence as I ate the smoothie bowl. Steve was watching me eat, and I was just concentrating on eating it. And from then on we had our meals in the guest room. On days where I felt well enough to help make it out in the kitchen we'd eat on the couch. But still most days I was having a hard time getting out of bed. I made it a goal to get out and do something productive once a day. It could be something as small as getting a new book or sitting in Steve's art room. Then it was two times a day. And slowly. I was getting closer to a normal schedule. It took awhile to get me there.
A week into my official recovery process, Tony and Bruce had created a new leg for me. Steve went with me to the lab to try it on. I was helped up onto a bench where the robotic leg attached itself to me. It was painful, and tight, super tight. I still didn't like walking on it at first. It just felt so weird.
As they were tinkering with the leg, I cleared my throat and asked them something. "What would happen if I went deaf?"
Bruce stopped moving and looked at me unsurely. "Wha-what do you mean?" He asked.
"I want to cut off one of my senses. I feel like I'm going crazy. I can barely stand being in a room with you guys and you've been silent for most of the time. I just can't stop being bombarded with your thoughts. God, I can hear Natasha sing a Russian song to herself three floors away. I can't take it anymore."
"Anna–" Steve warned putting a hand on his hip. He looked exhausted. He had every right to be, I was a pain in the ass to take care of.
"Steve–please–dear God please. I could go blind, I could go deaf. I just cannot take the noise." I just about begged.
"Do you think that's really smart? What if someone were to–"
"I'll read their mind."
"What if you can't?"
"I cannot live like this. I'm going crazy. I am hearing all these voices, some I can't even place because it's some random person from outside the tower. I need to shut something off so I can focus. Something needs to end."
"Woah, woah, woah." Steve halted holding up his hand. "Nothing is ending. We aren't ending anything."
"You don't get to decide. It's my body." I argued, Steve fell quiet because he knew I was right. After everything that happened to me without my consent, I deserved the right to choose, I always did.
"Can we talk about this later?" Steve requested a little quieter. He looked down at me with sad puppy dog eyes. The thing about this recovery process was that Steve and I fought constantly. He wanted it one way, and I wanted it the other. We were constantly bickering.
"No," I stated crossing my arms. "No, we're having it now. I'm so tired of waiting! I'm so tired of hearing what I hear!"
"Bruce, sit down and take notes. This is the actual American Civil War." Tony whispered to Bruce opening a snack he had on one of his tables. Both Steve and I heard him.
"You know what Tony," Steve began standing up and crossing his arms. Tony put his snack back on the table and faced Steve, standing straighter.
"Hey!" I yelled at the both of them. "Now is not the time to compare dick sizes."
"I'd probably–"
I glared at Tony daring him to finish. "Out."
"What?"
"Goodbye Anthony." Tony rolled his eyes so hard I'm surprised they didn't get stuck up there.
"I'll uh–I'll–I'll go with him." Bruce told us hurrying to catch up to Tony. Steve and I were finally alone in the lab. I sighed shaking my head.
"Do you understand how much this is hurting me?" I asked looking up to him.
"Which part?" He quipped half joking.
"Steve." I said seriously. "Look at me." His eyes shifted to mine. "I cannot keep going on like this. There's a literal war in my head. If I can cut off one part of my brain, then I can focus on untangling another. I'm not asking for your permission."
"Anna, please think about this. This is permanent."
"Everything that's wrong with me is permanent!" I yelled throwing my hands up, "I don't care what's permanent or not anymore.
"You don't know that!"
"I'm not going to get better Steve. You need to understand that. This is me now. No offense but I don't need you, I can fix myself."
"But you don't have to, let me help. This isn't a solution. Do you honestly think this is the best you're going to get?" He challenged, now it was my time to shift uncomfortably.
"I'm going to ask Tony and Bruce to come up with something for me." I finalized, making Steve huff in defeat.
"Whatever Anna, go ahead and do whatever you want."
"I am." I promised him getting off the table. I glared at him as I started to walk towards the elevator. My leg was wobbly and I was having a hard time walking. I had to much pride to ask for help. This argument should have never happened, but it did, and no one had won.
After everything that happened, I constantly felt dirty. I'd take a shower three or four times a day if I was up to it. I stand there, half balanced for almost an hour, scrubbing my skin. I'd do it over and over, until my body was raw, and dried out. I just felt so dirty. I felt disgusting. Steve finally called me out for it one day.
"What's going on with all the showering."
"Nothing." I mumbled not looking at him. I dried my hair off with a towel.
"Anna, please tell me what's going on." He pleaded sitting down on the bed. He looked up at me with his big, beautiful, blue eyes. He looked so saddened and disappointed. I hated seeing that look, and knowing I caused it was even worst. There was nothing in this world that cleanse me of my wrong doings. I was constantly letting Steve down. And I was constantly letting myself down, even when I didn't know it.
"I just feel so dirty all the time?"
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just feel gross. I wanted to feel clean again."
"I promise you, four showers a day makes you clean, it's probably over kill." He said lightly. He set a hand on my hip, flexing his fingers over it. He looked up once more at me with concern.
"I don't want to talk about what happened there." I told him after reading his mind.
"That's okay, I'm not asking you to."
"But you keep thinking it!"
"I can't help it! I'm worried about you, and what happened over there. The only thing you've told us about, is what we can see medically."
"I don't want you to know."
"Why?" Steve challenged pushing me further to an explosion. I'd never tell him everything that happened to me there. I only wanted him to know the extent of what I've written in this story. I just don't want to discuss it. "Anna, why? I'm here for you. And I will love you unconditionally no matter what."
"It doesn't matter. It's over." I ended the conversation. Steve sighed in defeat, still holding onto me. He rested his head to my stomach, and traced patterns onto my arms. I didn't want him touching me. I moved out of his grasp. "What's for dinner?"