"Life is fifty wrong turns down a bumpy road. All you can hope is that you end up somewhere nice." - Punk 57
*I don't own any of the characters except the OCs.
Melanie Lovett was a former CIA Agent. She decided it wasn't in the cards for her to kee...
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A/N: I know it's a bit rushed but I didn't want to bore you all with a bunch of meaningless fluff on Mel's time away from the tower.
TW: mentions of drugs and addiction
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Six Months Later:
If it was so easy for him to throw me away, discarded like the first slice of bread, did he ever really love me like he had said?
The little white pills danced in my palm as I moved my hand from side to side. Tempting. Welcoming me with open arms to how things used to be. How I used to feel. It would make me feel nothing. The pain of loving Bucky would subside, even if it was only for a little while.
Numbness was better than living in torturous longing for someone who didn't think I was enough for them.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
The tiny round tablets fell underneath the coffee table as my hand jerked from the startling door knocking. I kicked them further into the couch I was sitting on so whoever was at the door didn't see them.
I walked towards the door at looked into the peep hole. Sam stood on the other side, his face and body distorted by the fish eye lens, while he held a pizza in his hands. I breathed out slowly, my breath jagged and irregular.
"Sam, what are you doing here?" I said, opening the door abruptly.
He quickly made his way inside my studio apartment before I could even invite him in. The space wasn't much but I was never the type to want luxuries. I was always content with just a roof over my head. Living in the Stark tower hadn't changed that.
"Just wanted to stop by," he said nonchalantly, putting the pizza box down on the kitchen counter.
I sighed, closing the door behind it and leaning against it. He opened up the box, pulling a hot slice, and bringing it to his mouth.
"You gonna have some?" he mumbled with food in his mouth.
I crossed my arms, glaring down at the delicious Italian cuisine. It was from a nearby pizzeria I had come to love. I would get it every Friday night since I had arrived in D.C.. This was the first Friday that I hadn't gotten it. I had other plans in mind.
"So you just decided to take a four hour drive from New York City to come here and 'stop by'?" I motioned with my index finger and middle fingers bent.
He gobbled up another gigantic bite of pizza, almost getting to the crust. I waited for an answer as he deliberately decided to take his sweet time on it.
"Please Melly, have some pizza. For me?" he pleaded with those dark chocolate puppy eyes he always tried to give me.
I flattened my eyes, walking over and yanking a slice from the pie. "Happy?"
