The Winter Soldier

Chapter 11

Waking up the next morning I felt sick. My throat hurt and my eyes were swollen shot. The stitches in my hand were itching and it hurt so much I feared my wound had reopened. Memories from last night came rushing back to me and my hand moved to my throat. Pain shot through my neck and I winced. Breathing felt difficult and I knew I would definitely have to go to the hospital today.

But the physical pain felt small in comparison to the hurt I felt in my chest. How was I supposed to face him after last night? He had told me to leave. He hadn't even looked at me or tried to comfort me. He didn't let me comfort him. On the other side I remembered the fear I had felt when his hand had wrapped around my throat and the cold emotionless look on his face as I tried to get him off me.

Conflicted I sat up and peeled myself out of bed walking over to the mirror to look at the damage. I gasped in shock at my reflection. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy and there was a slight mark around my neck. Was this what love did to you? Left you broken and hurt while you still yearned for the person who caused it?

On the way to the bathroom I noticed Bucky's door standing slightly ajar. Strange I thought he never left his door open. Feeling uneasy I pushed his door open completely and I looked around the room. Bucky wasn't there. His bed was neatly made and my breath quickened. Something didn't feel right. That's when I realized Bucky's shelfs were empty and there were no books on his nightstand. My heart started to beat faster and I basically ran over to his dresser opening all the drawers with shaky hands.

They were all empty.

I looked around the room in panic. What was going on? Bucky couldn't have...

That's when I noticed a small folded note on the floor in front of his nightstand that must have fallen down. How did I not see it earlier? I slowly went over to pick it up and sunk down on his bed. The note had my name on it and without opening it I knew what this meant.

I opened the note and read only three words in Bucky's handwriting.

I am sorry

The tears started coming again. Bucky had left me.

I spent the following days curled up in my bed either crying or just blankly starring at the piece of paper. Sam was back and he didn't know what to do with me. I didn't tell him what was bothering me and to be honest I didn't want him to know. But that didn't matter since Bucky had called Sam and told him what had happened that night. As far as Sam knew my unusual behavior was due to that traumatizing event. He was upset at first but he didn't blame Bucky because he knew what PTSD could do to a person.

The marks on my neck faded rather quickly but I ended up with some breathing problems and had to see a specialist. Every breath I took seemed to be a reminder of that night. I was tortured by nightmares and the lack of sleep really took a toll on my mental health. After three weeks of listening to me screaming at night and sobbing at day Sam decided things needed to change.

"Alaska" this has to stop" Sam said softly. I was sitting on the couch in the living room wrapped into multiple blankets. Sam was crouched in front of me looking at me with sympathy. I quietly looked back at him. I hadn't really talked since Bucky left. I didn't feel like I could. The moment I would open my mouth all I wanted to do is cry. Bucky had left a hole and had left pain and sorrow in its place. Part of me hated him for it but another part still hoped for him to come back.

"Listen, I can see how much you are struggling and-and I think you should get some help to... process what happened"

I looked down at my hands, silent tears running down my face. I knew he was right and I knew that my struggles weren't only due to my heartache. Looking back up at Sam I gave him a small nod.

I was going to get better.

I started seeing a therapist after that and slowly started picking up the pieces. Putting back together what had been broken. It was hard but Sam and Artemis were there every step of the way. Sam sensed there was more bothering me besides the incident but he never pushed me to talk to him about it, he was just happy I was talking again.

Harleen, my therapist, was really nice. It actually felt good being able to talk to someone outside from the people close to me. We worked through my issues and it turned out there were many things I had never probably processed in my past. One important step to getting better was doing things that I enjoyed. So I began painting again

After some time I started applying to colleges, working hard on art projects that was good enough to submit. Unfortunately it seemed my grades weren't good enough for any of the schools but many told me my art had potential. It was hard to get to terms with at first but luckily Sam helped me find a job at an art gallery in New York. They offered training and had a special program for young adults who were affected by the snap. I knew Sam had used his connections to get me into the program but I didn't mind, I was just happy to be able to pursue something I was actually passionate about. After a while of searching I found an apartment in New York. It wasn't the nicest area but that didn't matter to me.

But even after all those months I still couldn't stop thinking about Bucky. He was constantly present in my mind. When I woke up in the morning, when I sat on the porch looking out on the water, when I walked past the places he had kissed me, when I sat on the couch watching a movie. I would have this aching feeling in my chest, taking his small note out of my pocket clutching it to my chest. Then I would try to remember his face and the dark melancholic sound of his voice.

Meanwhile Sam had to go back on another mission, this time with Bucky. There was a group of super-soldiers calling themselves the flag-smashers and their leader was a young girl not much older than I was. I wasn't too concerned at first since this wasn't the first mission they had been on but as more news about the terroristic group spread I started getting worried for their safety. There were times when I didn't hear from Sam for days. Artemis and my Therapist helped me stay calm and told me not to worry too much, after all there wasn't much I could do. I tried concentrating on my move to New York instead, this was an exciting new chapter in my life and I was ready to take on the challenges that came with it.

One of the challenges being that I would have to go to my aunt's house to get the rest of my belongings. At first I had contemplated not going but Harleen had said it was important I faced my childhood home so I could make peace with that part of my life and move on.

My aunt was still the same cold-hearted bitch she had been all my life. At first she had refused to let me in but I had taken Sam's sister, Sarah, with me and she quickly shut her up. Ultimately I was able to get everything I needed out of the house, even some furniture, and said goodbye to my childhood prison forever.

When I arrived in my new apartment it felt exhilarating knowing I would be able to start over and maybe even fulfill some of my long time dreams. Everything felt possible. Being in New York I couldn't help but wonder what Bucky was doing at the moment. I knew he had grown up in Brooklyn and was currently living there too. This was the closest I had been to him since he had left. Did he ever think of me? Did he miss me as much as I missed him? Or did he not miss me at all?

Sam was the one who had told me that Bucky hadmoved back to Brooklyn and had done some therapy of his own. It wasn't reallyhis choice though and more a condition of his pardon. I hoped he had been ableto work through his struggles and was doing better than when I had last seenhim. Although my ears perked up every time Sam would mention his name I nevergot myself to ask about him.