clutter | rogers

EIGHT

A voice asked, "Vee?" It was accompanied by a knock.

When she didn't answer, the door was opened and light fled into Vee's room and flushed her tired eyes. She stirred, immediately pulling her blanket over her head and turning away.

Natasha strode through the living room and into the bedroom. She then stepped into the bathroom and set down a stack of towels and fresh clothes.

Natasha noticed some of the soap was used up and made a mental note to replace it by that night.

"Vee, it's time to get up."

"What time is it?"

"8 o'clock sharp." Natasha crossed the room again and opened the door to depart. She said kindly over her shoulder, "Breakfast is served in the commons at 8:30. They're just down the hall and take two rights. See you then."

Vee grumbled in response and sat up when the door closed. She blinked and stood.

Panic sunk in for a moment before she remembered she already called in sick and told Cookbook to feed Jem.

She made her way to the bathroom and noticed a small radio on the sink. After finding some old R&B station, she stepped into the shower.

It's Tuesday. My name is Vee Winona and I am from the coast of Maine, sandwiched between the forest and the ocean. I'm a photographer and I work at the Bugle.

She paused. In the midst of reminding herself who, exactly, she was, she remembered Aris. As much as she hated to admit it, her baggage is important.

I was in an abusive relationship. I am not a victim; I am a survivor. It sounded stupid once she said it and she laughed to herself. She washed her body under the water. Vee felt like an advert from a lawyer commercial about car crashes.

Though it was a corny statement, it did bring her a level of comfort.

She finished bathing and dried herself off. Natasha had brought warm towels and plain clothes that were Vee's identical size.

There was even fresh underwear, a nice touch.

After it was all said-and-done, she departed from the room and entered the hallway of a distant night's past.

She followed Natasha's instructions until she found a large open floor plan of rooms. She happened first on the nearly empty dining room.

It was a simple table with simple chairs and they reminded her simultaneously of the room she was staying in and the room she was interrogated in.

Vision sat, eating strawberries and watermelons.

He looked up at her and then back at his plate.

"I do not eat because I need to. I simply adore the colors of pink fruit. I doubt you were wondering though."

"No, I was. Then I wondered where I could get pink fruit."

He looked at her again. "Just past me, in the kitchen." He stuck a thumb behind his left shoulder.

"Thanks." She headed past him, through a kitchen, and into a kitchenette. Natasha flipped a pancake onto a yellow ceramic plate and handed it to an unseeable face — at least from where Vee stood. The face's person turned to exit the room and Vee realized it was Tony Stark.