Buzzkill [Winter Soldier]

Epilogue

Hey everyone! Here is the Epilogue, but by no means the conclusion, of Buzzkill! It's longer than the normal length of my chapters, but I promise it's worth it. Feel free to read this in a couple of different sit-downs. Thank you all for your lovely comments. Enjoy. :)

Emotion loomed dangerously low over Ruth's head. It was like a shadow that reflected off of her without getting too close; at least not anymore. Over the seemingly infinite time since Ruth left James to go to Sweden, emotion faded, but staying just close enough to be a threat that could show itself at any moment.

    It was the perfect spring early afternoon. The sun shining gently on Ruth's face as she walked down the straight-shot street to a pub she goes to on a regular basis now. She doesn't go everyday, trying to avoid creating too much interest from the bartender about her life.

The small bell on the door chimed as Ruth walked in, her jacket secure on her body with her bag slung across her shoulder. She ordered some tea from the bartender, paid for it, thanked him, and walked with soft footsteps on the hardwood floor to her usual booth. Ruth slid across the leather seat, pulled her bag close to her, and began to drink the hot tea to warm her up.

In the earlier days of coming to this diner, and on a day where she felt she just couldn't escape the grief of her past, Ruth ordered a shot of whiskey for the first time in her life.

Alcohol was forbidden at the facility in Sweden because of how it affected their minds. To prove her point, when they turned fourteen, the Woman made Ruth and Ryker drink so much vodka in one night that they were sick for days. Glass after glass they were forced to drink the vodka down like water. That night made even the smell of alcohol revolting. But now, Ruth was desperate for some relief that she had been told alcohol provided.

The first sip was brutal, the burning taste vividly reminding her of convulsing on the bathroom floor in the facility six years ago. But still, Ruth drank. After shooting the whiskey down, Ruth waited for the buzz, but it never came.

The alcohol did nothing.

She drank down three more shots, each time waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. Already full of anger and emotion, tears of frustration welled up in Ruth's eyes. All she wanted was for it to go away. She just wanted it all to stop.

From then on, Ruth stuck with her tea, hoping something, anything would take the madness away like James did.

    In the past year of being alone, when Ruth wasn't at the diner, she sat on the bench of a park straight across the road from her family's house, observing them as they went about their day. Everyone in that Rogers family was still alive and well, going about their days normally as if nothing was hindering them. Once, feeling brave (or rather, feeling lifeless) on a snowy winter evening, Ruth walked down her delicately-lit childhood street to the Rogers house. Her feet cold with boots soaked with snow, Ruth stood motionless just across the street from the front door, her heart beating so rapidly in her chest that she felt faint. Her breath forming cloud-like wisps in front of her face as the winter chill froze her nose. Moments passed, and Ruth tried, but couldn't take another step towards the house. She had a plan to walk up to the door asking for donations to a made-up charity, knowing they wouldn't recognize her anyway; but she couldn't do it. Instead, Ruth turned solemnly, walking away from the Rogers family home as they gathered in the living room with the soft light of the fireplace showing the smiles on their faces.

Grief from everything that had happened this past year came as a sudden shock to Ruth now that she was alone. She was thankful for the cold months. They gave her an excuse to stay inside and hide herself from the world.