chapter eighteen.

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❞You're Ironman's only superhero

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❞You're Ironman's only superhero.❞

✯✯✯

I AM ALL CRIED OUT, sitting in the back of the Quinjet. Bruce is also impacted by that little witch bitch's powers. Dad is sitting beside me, his hand in mine. I flinched when he first touched my hand when I made it onto the Quinjet, no matter how much I try I can't get that disgusting scientist out of my mind. 

Natasha is sitting on the other side, her arm over my shoulders. 

My cheeks are sticky from tears, I feel empty from the inside. I have worked so hard ever since Dad adopted me to fill myself with happiness, friendship, and love. That girl took all of that away within minutes. 

Everything is gone. 

The Quinjet touches down and I get up soundlessly. I want to get off, I want to get into the safe house and wash clean. Natasha tried her best to clean the blood off me, there wasn't much on the Quinjet. 

We are walking, there is greenery all around us. There is a farmhouse waiting for us, Clint doesn't hesitate to go inside. I don't listen once we're inside, I stand beside my father, hiding behind his shoulders. 

There are kids in the room soon, they're calling Clint 'dad', Clint has children, and he even has a really pretty and pregnant wife. Clint's daughter comes up to me and I look down at her. 

All I see is myself. And the blue takes over my eyes, I know because the girl takes a step back in fear. After all, a girl covered in blood with glowing blue eyes must seem like a monster to her, I know it does to me. And then I'm running out of the door, out into the greenery. 

I break down 17 steps from the house, tainting the green grass red. 

Dad comes to me immediately, his arm over my shoulders and I push him away, "NO GET OFF ME!"

He's scared I know, but he takes a step back. He's on the grass right in front of me, his hands up. He stays there and the tears are already coming down again over my cheeks. I can feel the hands crawling all over me. 

"Sammy..." I hear his voice, my hands are over my head and my forehead is touching the grass, "Sammy... it's me, it's your dad, Tony... the one who you routinely call an asshole?"

I don't say anything. My eyes are tightly closed as the tears continue.

"Can I hug you?" He asks, and I don't answer, "Sammy? Will you allow me to touch your arm?"

I sniffle and hum, "Y — yeah."

His hand is on my arm, warm and grounding. 

"Tell me," He says, "Tell me everything, sweetie."

And I tell him. I cry as I do. His hand stays on my arm, and he says nothing as I tell him everything. I finally look up, my eyes are red, and the magical blue has died away. Dad looks at me, with an unwavering look of kindness and sympathy even as I tell him about the scientist and his love for putting his hands where they don't belong. 

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