Death In My Voice [Severe Editing Era]

Chapter 3

All the writers keep writing what they write

Somewhere another pretty vein just dies

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About once a year something terrible happens to me: I remain completely alone and begin to remember my life. And one is not at all in the sense that there is no one in the same room with me, but the fact that there is no such person who would fill a constantly gaping hole in my soul.

It seems to me that there is nothing worse than memories.

You just sit and think about what happened once upon a time, experiencing the same feelings.

If these are good memories, then I'm sad that this will never happen again. If the bad ones inside, everything seems to be rotting from the fact that I have, again and again, unable to stop, scrolling through the pictures of childhood and youth in front of my eyes.

Once someone told me that it's straightforward to forget. But what if the reminders of my unbearable past, even after so many years, are contained in every cell of my body, in every hair and every millimetre of the nail?

I had nightmares again and, as usual on such days, without breakfast, I put on my warmest sweater, high waist denim shorts and warm high socks, brewed herbal tea and sat down by the window.

Everybody went somewhere: Stark drove off Pepper somewhere, Steve went to search Bucky, and the twins bought an apartment in a quiet suburb of New York. There's only Clint, who was cooking something in the kitchen. I have long been accustomed to not become attached to people just for the sake of having someone to communicate with because I firmly understood.

Loneliness is normal.

A completely normal human condition, and in somehow many do not invest positive emotions and events — everything doesn't fill the hole inside it.

From this height the city was beautiful. Dark leaden clouds hung over him, which were very appropriate for my mood. I opened the window and inhaled the fresh air. Such sweet and terribly attractive wind for human receptors before the rain.

"Miss Y/L/N you have guests," Friday said suddenly. I sigh heavily and answer.

"Ich will niemanden sehen *," today I really need to be alone, and I'm not able to bear anyone's company draws.

"They insist," it is still difficult to get used to the voice of the new assistant. I always can hear Jarvis. ''They already rise to you.'' I sigh heavily and move away from the window to put the cup, and pull the sleeves of the sweater more tightly.

Today, no bracelets or watches hide my broken wrists, and I didn't want to tell intruders. As it turned out, the twins came.

''Hi, Y/N,'' Wanda comes a little closer and lights a desk lamp, thereby illuminating the dark room.

''Hello,'' I squint from the unpleasant light and turn off the device.

''Do you want to walk?''

''Wanda wanted to get out of the appartments, 'cause  she doesn't know the town yet.'' Pietro looked at my embroidery in a small frame on the dresser, which I did while I was still a nine-year-old carefree girl. He then went in the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Sorry, but today I am not in a bit of a mood," I immediately felt Wanda crawl into my head, trying to guess the reasons for my melancholy. "Don't," I turn sharply to her, and the girl blushes slightly.