3| Diamond [Pietro M.]

02. Time For Patience

"Iris, would you please go feed Apollo for me?" Carter sighs while looking to the hardwood flooring. I give a tiny nod before dropping my icepack on the counter and exit through the back door. I gently shut it behind me before slightly shivering at the biting air. Now that the sun is setting, the temperature is dropping as well. I'm tempted to draw on my abilities to warm myself, but the thought causes me to violently flinch. A striking pain erupts in the fibers of my muscles and I nearly stumble to my knees. Instead, I sway on my feet as my eyes blankly stare ahead. I can feel all my muscles lock in place as though the collar is once again causing paralysis. It's a feeling of weakness, a feeling of feebleness. I feel helpless against myself and it's a terrible, terrible thing. 

I shut my eyes as I feel my bottom lip quiver. It's a horrible sense, to feel so powerless against yourself. It's a feeling which I hope to never feel again. I never want to be placed in a position where I cannot help someone, friends, innocents, family... I tell myself I refuse to be degraded to such a state ever again. 

Carter was right about the PTSD.  

I release a shaky exhale and allow the tension to leave my body as I give up any thought about my abilities. It's not hard for me to see that any thought of them will trigger an episode. It's also easy for me to see that any sort of physical contact, or thought thereof, also causes me to lock up. I jot these up to be effects of the collar and straight jacket. 

One more breath and I carry on. My feet softly stride across the earth as I pick my way down the path that leads to the barn. I keep an eye on the way in which I walk, which is jerky and uneven. Ever since that damned collar, I can't move fluidly. I reason it's due to the fact that maybe some brain functions, or muscle fibers, have been damaged. This fact alone causes an anger to well up in my chest. I notice that my skin doesn't light up in an angry glow like it usually does when I become upset. I heave a quiet sigh. I decide this is due to my mind believing that I still cannot access my enhanced side without immeasurable pain.

I lift my hand and gently press my palm against the wooden barn door before moving it to my right. The door creaks open as I step inside. It's warm, smells like Apollo and hay, and has an inviting hazy glow coming from the light bulbs hanging from the tall ceiling. I breathe a sigh of relief before entering. I can see Apollo's ears over the stall wall and a warm feeling of security blankets me. 

I move across the barn, towards the back left, and enter the feed room. I move to a large metal container that holds Apollo's grain. I snag a colorful feed-bucket off the counter before prying off the grain bin's lid. Inside is a scoop, which I use to shovel the feed into the bucket before replacing the lid. I leave the feed room and close the door behind me before walking back towards the entrance of the barn. To the left of the entrance is Apollo's stall. His head gently hangs over the stall door as he regards me with wide, soft eyes and perked ears. I even receive a quiet nicker as I approach. 

Once reaching his stall, I hold out my hand and stroke his face before gently clicking. It signals for him to move to his stall feed bucket. He happily obliges and I unlatch his door before entering. I walk over to his bucket and empty the grain into it. Once I begin to leave the stall, he moves forward to eat. He's always been a gentlemanly and kind stallion. That may be why I adore him so. And why I feel so safe around him. 

Smiling to myself, I easily close the stall latch behind me before returning the bucket to the feed room. Having completed my chore, I leave the barn. I shut the door behind me before picking my way back in the direction of Carter's log cabin. My short walk is serenaded by a pair of blue jays that watch me from the heights of a pine tree. I give them little attention as I make my way to the back door, but pause when I hear Carter's firm voice. 

"She's been through a lot, and even more so now that you lot have dragged her through the mud. That girl is a kind, albeit sarcastic, soul who needs not the dangers and trauma of your 'heroic' world." I can hear Carter almost shout at the team. "I should've never let her go running back to New York." His voice drops for a moment as a long sigh escapes him. 

"Iris is broken. It doesn't take a genius to see that. You can see it in her eyes, the way she moves. She hasn't spoken, hasn't smiled, and didn't even give me my hug." The older man vehemently growls. "Who's gonna put her back together?" No response. "You lot are, damn straight. You all need to be here for her now more than ever. Not sitting on your hands hoping she'll heal all by her lonesome. She might act like she's all gung-ho, doesn't need help, but it's all theater trick. Iris is more vulnerable and sensitive than you lot realize. I would know. I helped raise her for a time.

"She's gonna need your support. Obviously, she's hurt in the worst of ways, which means you have to be able to be there for her without pressuring her. You can't force her to speak or smile, let her do that on her own. That's how we'll know she's healing. Just be with her. Just sit, be quiet, be still. Let her come around on her own time. This isn't a problem you can just snap your fingers and it will go away like you heroes think. No, this is a time of patience and understanding. Try to see how you would feel if you were her, how you'd want to be treated and supported." There's shuffling and all grows quiet. My eyes wander to the handle of the door as I begin to wonder how I'm going to overcome all of this.

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AN;

*screams into the next life*

ARE YOU GUYS EXCITED YET?