You and your parents loved the beach.
In fact, you'd try to go every other weekend when they had the time off. You liked the long island's beaches.
So, as you stand there, watching your parents bury you in the sand, you begin to wonder. Your mind wanders off, and you land on one, simple question.
Why?
And from this, sprung so many hard and almost unexplainable questions.
Why did everything go to hell? Why did things happen the way they did?
Why did it have to be you?
After a moment on consideration, you stop yourself. These questions are better off left alone, you reminded yourself, people seldom like the answers to those questions, so don't go thinking you're gonna be special.
You look back to the waters, only to find your parents gone. Instead, it's your current family. tony, Scarllet, Stephen, Steve, Bucky, Micheal, Maverik... They're all there.
The world around you glitches, like it would if you were in a broken simulation. Things return to normal, if only for a second, before glitching again.
You memories shift and glitch around you as you start to feel dizzy. You can't control what's happening-- this dream...
This dream just became a nightmare.
You look around you, you look around at your new place. You're...
home.
---------
You pinch yourself, wondering if this is real. You can feel it, but it's dulled as if there were a filter between you and yourself-- like you have gloves on.
You're home, but are you really?
You can smell ( favorite baked goods) coming from the kitchen, the type your dad would always make and accidentally burn. You could hear your mother humming her favorite song from in the kitchen-- the way she always did while cleaning.
You had to be at home. This was home. This was your home.
You raced from your place by the door to the kitchen, "Mom! Dad! is that really--" you stop in your tracks. Nobody was there.
"Honey, is that you?" that was your mother's voice. She sounded so close. Close enough to touch but there was no one in sight.
There was no one.
You tried to run outside, you tried to shout call out. You did. You could hear yourself. You could hear your footsteps, feel the vibrations your feet made. You could smell the wood that made the patio.
This feels so real. This is real. This is a memory. This has to be a memory.
No, you mentally scold yourself, memories have people. Memories have pain. You know when you're in a memory. You're in a dream-- a nightmare.
It was true. You'd fallen asleep on the couch while watching Finding Nemo. Scarllet was across the room, curled up into herself on the loveseat. Maverik was there with you too, laying in the cuddle corner about two feet away from you.
From where you were, where you stood in your own nightmare-- your own mind, the world was nonexistent.
They were so close. They just had to tap your shoulder...
And yet, from here, where you crumpled to the floor as you struggled to breathe, they were worlds away.
You could breathe. You could die here, right? Your heart would stress out and give up?
Ha, you'd laugh at yourself if you didn't feel like you were dying.
But you felt like you were.
You'd began to give up. You gave in. You gave in to the pain, you let your senses ache and you let yourself scream. You cried. You suffocated in this madness that drove you deeper into yourself and you didn't try to escape because you knew you couldn't.
Then, as if by magic, you woke up.
Maybe it was magic.
======================
You struggled to breathe as Stephen brought you into his room. You'd been here before to talk about mystical stuff and freak out sessions. He gave you psychological evaluations once a month per Tony and Bruce's request.
Peter was next to him, looking pretty freaked out. You wondered if you'd accidentally teleported yourself into his room in your sleep again.
"Stephen, what's happening?" Peter asked, but he sounded... far away... it was weird.
Were you dying?
At the thought, your breathing became more rapid than it already had been. You could feel your heart pounding. Surely, you didn't need this much blood if you were laying down.
At that thought, you looked around you, wondering what the hell was actually happening. You tried to sit up, but you couldn't.
A whimper, struggling, calling out for someone, a scream.
Your vision was blurring, tears were in your eyes sure, but you were also starting to black out. It was like someone was starting to erase the world from your view, starting from the corners of your eyes and working their way in to make it more painful-- like in the movies.
Why was everything like in the movies?
"Y/n." A voice cut through everything. It was faint, you could barely hear it over the faint ringing in your ears. It sounded like there was a wall between you and the speaker. A soundproof wall. Were they screaming? Yelling?
Are you going crazy?
"Y/n, can you hear me." The voice was deep and stern. They were calm and collected, but there was concern there, too. Although, you could barely pay attention to it. You were too happy to hear another person.
Your vision began to clear ever so slightly, and you could see who was talking.
Stephen looked... panicked. That didn't usually happen. What happened?
"Y/n, it's going to be okay. This isn't going to last very long." He told you, looking at you as if you were a kid who didn't understand English very well.
You tried to breathe, but it was just choked sobs. Your heart had slowed down a little, but it still felt like you were dying.
"It's going to be okay, Y/n." Peter chipped in, "Can you name five things you see?" he asked.
You recognized the trick. In fact, you were the one who'd taught him that. He wanted to be able to help Scarllet through a panic attack if she'd ever gotten one and there wasn't anyone else available.
You looked around with wide and frightened eyes, "A uh-- bed.." you tried, your voice was a lot raspier than it had been before. "Stephen... the clook-- I mean cloak." you stammered.
"It's okay, he understands." Peter smiled at your progress, "Keep going." he prodded.
"The.. uh floor... a-nd the wall." You could feel your heart slowing a little as you sniffed through stammering breaths, "An-nd the-- uh-- desk." You finished, feeling both accomplished and dumb. It was helping, but there wasn't a real reason for you to be panicking in the first place.
"Four things you can feel?" Peter asked.
"Uh... You... hair..." Your breathing became a little easier again as you listed things off, "leg... cloak... and the... floor?" You tried to move again, but it wasn't happening. Your heart picked up its pace, and Stephen was quick to explain.
"I had to restrain you because you were tearing Peter's room apart. You'll be able to move in a moment. I promise this is temporary." he explained carefully, so he didn't freak you out.
With that, you focused on your breathing for a split second.
"Three things you can hear?" Peter offered.
"You... wind... and... my breathing." You replied, you still seemed far from breathing evenly, but you were still breathing.
"Good. Two things you can smell?" Peter asked.
You took a breath through your nose, happy to smell the cloak, and Peter's cologne in general. You listed the things and were happy to be able to breathe with only a few hiccups.
"And last thing. One thing you can taste." Peter was smiling, looking proud of you, which you thought was odd. Maybe he was actually just proud of himself for remembering?
You licked your lips, grimacing at the familiar metallic taste.
"Blood." you offered weakly, disappointed in yourself.
Stephen's spell wore off, and you recognized the way your heart wasn't dying anymore. But instead of calm, you felt... drained, guilty.. tired.
Wait-- wasn't that just another word for drained?
"Y/n, Tony will understand." Stephen sighed, obviously reading your mind, "This wasn't nearly as bad as it was when we started."
"It's true. You just ripped a couple of things off my wall this time!" Peter smiled and leaned forward, taking your hands in his.
You pulled your hands away, hyper-focusing on how much pain they always cause.
Peter looked hurt, but he had too much sympathy to blame you for it. Of course, you wouldn't want to be touched, you probably felt awful. So, he didn't dwell on it for long.
"Stephen, where's Micheal?" You asked. He lived with Strange, Wong, and Maverik, in Sanctum Sanctorum but you couldn't hear anything besides the crushing silence.
"He's in his room." Stephen answered calmly, "I uh... had to sound proof it after the..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "incident with Mercedes." he explained.
Ah, of course. Micheal couldn't stop screaming profanities, so Stephen just threw him over his shoulder and took him.
You would've thought back to it, but you honestly didn't want to. So instead, you slowly got up to make your way to Micheal.
"Thanks for... helping." you offered a smile, "And I apologize for any damage I may have caused."
Stephen just shrugged, and you were tempted to read his mind. He'd understand, after all. (He did it all the tim, anyway.) Then again, you didn't like reading people's minds when you didn't have to. It put you on edge.
With a sigh, you round the corner after your third flight of stairs. Micheal's room was on the fourth floor. Of course, it was. He liked giving people a hard time, and he liked running steam off when he could. Four flights of stairs were perfect for that. (It was Stephen's idea to put him up here, you decided with a smug smile. Micheal wouldn't think of something like that on his own. He was pissed when he got here.)
You knocked on the door, and smiled when it didn't open.
Micheal was probably sleeping, so you decided to just go with it. You opened the door, and your smile dropped.