The Nikki Wolf Chronicles || Avengers

CHAPTER (29) TWENTY NINE

It's amazing how short life can be.

You hear how short life is. I guess I don't agree. Life's length doesn't matter, whether you die at age 20, or age 87. It's what you take the time to do within those moments.

There's some people who are unappreciative of life. I don't mean the people who have been through so much that they wonder if anything will be okay, ever again. It's the people who have so many opportunities open to them, yet they toss them away and say things they have no right saying.

I sit here, numb, and I'm staring at the wall in front of me. Have I lived a good life so far? I have. I know it. It doesn't matter that I was never social-- I made my own games, I hung out with myself, with my mom, with my old pet rock. Of course, those are things I don't do anymore, but I was happy. I worked with what I could.

I had my father. A family, and I was happy. I am happy. But, something now hangs heavy in the air.

My phone drops heavily from my fingers, and hits the table with a loud slapping noise. Pushing it away, I slump into my chair, not wanting to see the offending device. Minutes ago, I'd decided to call my mum. I hadn't heard from her in awhile, and no one was back. They still aren't here.

I sit in silence.

When she picked up, she'd burst into tears right away.

"Nikita..."

My stepfather and both my stepsisters are dead. The plane failed on their way to Boston, and it fell from 28,000 feet in the air. Hadn't my mother told them to drive for this very precaution? She hates planes. The other three love them.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

Despite everything, I'm glad they passed with doing something they were so excited about. Being so high up, above the water and stretch of land, flying effortlessly above the clouds. Feeling ecstatic. I hope they died at peace. I hope they didn't suffer.

"Please come home. I need you here for a bit," she whispered, and then we hung up.

I didn't know them as well. I don't love them like my mother does-- I can't force myself to pretend I did, but I can't hate them, either. I have no reason, no business, no right.

When I open my eyes, I feel nothing. I feel no pain, emotionally or physically. I feel no regret, no anticipation, no excitement. And, when Natasha walks in, followed by others, I straighten in my seat and put a smile on my face.

The emotion is not a lie. It reaches my eyes, and shines through. We've been through a lot-- together. We've conquered the Chitauri, and I don't even bother to think of Loki, or the girl who Thor loves. That's the rain cloud.

"Hey guys!" I say. I don't understand how to feel about death. My father is dead, my stepfather is dead, and my two stepsisters are dead. Yet, every time I hear the word, I'm not sure how to react. It's like these people aren't my family. Deaths happen everyday, and I need to keep moving. It's my ultimatum.

Do I let this eat me from the inside? Or, do I push past, stand proud, and be strong? I know what choice I've made.

"Where's Clint, Natasha, and Tony?" I ask, looking at the other three.

Bruce sits down across from me, and replies first. "Clint has a wound. Natasha is treating him. Tony's in the kitchen."

Just as the words are out, Clint and Natasha walk in. He has a wrap around him arm; clean, white, and pure. Covering the impotence-- blood. He grins at me, assuring everyone he's okay. Natasha sits quietly next to him.