honor [steve rogers] book 1

01

01| I am Baby

Asking a depressed person to be happy, is like asking a cancer patient to cure themselves.

Coming to the gym didn't do much for me. I thought that maybe if I started to take my anger out on the punching bags that maybe I'd stop drowning myself in despair and loneliness. Alas, it did nothing but make me wish the bag was the face of the man who killed my best friend, Martha Chapman.

Just the thought of avenging her death made me giddy and made my hands twitch in desperation to attack. It had been years, yet the need was still alive and evident.

Martha was a dancer for the Manhattan ballet. Her movements were soft and angelic. Her soft blonde curls landed just above her shoulder, so thick and wavy. Her skin was pale yet her cheeks always had a lively rose undertone that masked the small orange freckles that sprinkled her cheeks and nose. And her eyes, the eyes that shed tears for me when my parents died. The eyes that watched me moved into her small house with her mother. The eyes that watched me grow only until I was twenty two before her murder.

Martha was my one and only friend, she was all I had, and she was gone.

I punched the bag once more simultaneously as a man next to me only his bag broke and fell on the floor. He sighed. He had been doing this all day and he even brought extra bags with him for this matter that were right next me. He only had a few bags left.

I walked over to the bags before he could reach and lifted the bag thrusting it towards him.

He looked at me intently as he thanked. After Martha left I felt no face could ever be important enough to hold my interest so I never really looked up anymore. Until him.

I went back to punching my bag before becoming bored and walking towards the unisex bathroom to get my water so I could move onto the hand to hand combat station/competition across the room. This was my routine for the past two years and it hasn't helped one bit.

Martha got me a membership card one day before she went on her blind date with some douche. She said to me Baby, you're never gonna find a man if you don't tighten up that core.

Martha and I were always a bit cubby growing up, she lost her baby fat when she became a dancer where as I stayed home all day eating Cheetos and reading comics yet I too seemed to loose the wait. I never under yet I never wondered why.

But it's your choice, if a man doesn't snatch someone as beautiful as you, I'd be honored if you as my best friend would move in with me forever. I punched the locker angrily and sighed before I walked out only to see the man had already broken the punching bag I just gave him. I wondered how the hell he wasn't tired yet. He's always here before me, he's been coming for longer than I . Yet I always leave before him. He never get tired. He's always...angry.

Today was actually the first day I talked to him yet I sometimes roll him the bags if I didn't want him to get in my way.

Martha told me not to show people I'm different. I wasn't normal for such a small girl like me to have to power to pick up all twenty of those bag with one hand without breaking a sweat.

Martha was the only one that knew about my...abilities and sometimes I'd stay up wondering if that's why she was killed. Although it wasn't bag much of a mystery.