Low [Bruce Banner One-Shots]

LOW

~ LOW ~

Robert Bruce Banner. Who am I really? A physicist? A monster?

The poor doctor was sitting in the grass, his head in his hands. His mind was nothing but a rushed mess, having thoughts swirl through freely and violently.

It had been almost a month since his last destructive transformation, but the guilt continued to eat up at him. Not just from his latest victims, but from those over the years. The hell bent monster inside him always finding a way out to destroy and kill-or was it really?

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, trying to free the stress and tension in the single breath but it was no good. The core of his stomach tightened as he gagged, the thoughts in his head running a little too far, or was it merely the truth he was too frightened to accept?

"Impossible, impossible, impossible," Banner repeated in a desperate whisper, attempting to calm his nerves on the thought, but there was far too much evidence for him to continuously deny it.

He knew that the Hulk was just a persona of himself. What if it was the persona of all that pain and anguish he had kept inside himself for so long? What if it was all the things he wanted to do, but was too afraid to because he was too timid; too afraid?

There was no denying it, but there was so much at risk to even suggest it. The Hulk was just Banner in a way where he could express all those feelings he had suppressed for so long in a violent way.

"Damnit," Banner groaned while running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner. "My hair, oh, my hair," he mumbled to himself. With a slight chuckle, he came to the realization of how insane he must sound right now. It made him glad no one else was around to hear him.

There were gray strands at his side burns and on the sides of his head, slowly creeping up until his entire hair was the colour of burnt ashes. He remembered when Betty used to touch and play with his hair. All the intimate times they shared and the fun times he had, but he surprised himself even more when his mind decided to go further back in time to the first person he loved.

Rebecca; his mother.

Half a smile twitched on his face, remembering his mother. She was his first friend and the first person to ever show him real love. And when she was taken away from him, his whole world slowly began to crumble, each year being worst than the last. His father-his father had been the one to start all the mess; the one who killed his own wife.

A sob escaped Bruce's mouth when he gritted his teeth. The thoughts had gone too far. He didn't want to remember his father. The man who never once showed love to Bruce. He only abused him and his mother- only showing hatred towards the two.

"You're evil, Bruce! You're the reason your mother died!"

"I wish I killed you when I had the chance!"

"Men are supposed to be proud when they feel pain, but all you ever do is cry, Bruce! Cry like the little wuss you are!"

"You're a monster! You don't deserve to live!"

Maybe you were right, Brian, he thought, remembering the insults his father would spit at him. He didn't feel he deserved to live anymore- not as what he was now: a monster. Even now he could feel his alternate persona pounding in the deepest of his conscious. Roaring, bellowing, feeding off of this awful nostalgia he was going through, but he could hold it back with years of practice.