girl ― saved by captain america

[forty eight] the end of the line

[Steve]

"Willa," I breathe out, a warm sense of numbness falling over my body as the whole world seems to stop around me. Still holding her eyes squeezed shut, the poor little girl whimpers loudly, her whole body shaking in fear. My gaze doesn't leave the child's stomach as I stare at the harsh red line cutting across her pale flesh. A million thoughts begin racing through my mind, but above all else, I'm just left asking, what? What is this? What did Tony do to her?

"Willa," I say the girl's name again, my voice a hint stronger this time. As I notice her knees beginning to wobble underneath her unsteadily, I quickly realize she's just moments away from collapsing on the floor. My arms reach out in an instant, scooping underneath her armpits to keep her from falling. The child's weight falls onto my arms fully and she lets out a sob, a complete look of defeat forming on her face as she keeps her eyes closed, refusing to look at me. "Willa, baby," I murmur, collecting the shaking girl into a hug as gently as I can. Her bare body leans limply against me, her head coming up to rest on my shoulder. Rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, I ask as gently as I can, "Willa, sweetheart... what happened?"

"D-don't hurt me," she whimpers weakly in response, causing my heart to sting.

"Of course not, doll. Daddy's not gonna hurt you. Here," I hum, using one arm to hang onto her still while taking the other and grabbing her shirt off the floor, carefully positioning it back over her head. Pulling back slightly to re-dress her, I help her reach her trembling arms through the holes, yanking down on the fabric gently so that the shirt falls back into place. Next, I grab the little girl's underwear, helping her slip them back over her skinny legs and up onto her waist. "There you go, Willa-bug," I coo, wrapping her back up in a warm hug once she's somewhat covered again. As she reaches her arms up around my neck and clings to me, I can feel her heart beating rapidly against me. "I've got you, sweetheart. Shh, shhh," I hush, returning to rubbing the girl's back soothingly.

"D-Daddy," she weeps softly against my shoulder, the pain in her cry causing a deep ache to settle in my bones.

"I've got you, Willa; Daddy's got you," I promise her, swaying back and forth slowly in hopes of consoling the poor thing.

"D-Da-a-addy," she hiccups once more, the pure agony in her voice like that of a dying animal, like something unbearable is spreading through her veins, the life weaning out of her as she sits in my arms.

"Willa, hey," I soothe, bouncing her slightly in my arms as I kneel down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. "I'm right here, baby. I'm right here; it's okay. Shh, shh-shh, I've got you. Daddy's got you, Willa-bug. I'm here; I'm right here." As I finish my futile attempt at comforting the little girl, something happens that's never happened before; for the first time since the day I met her, Willa falls apart.

Really, truly, falls apart. Not out of fear; not as some pre-programmed trauma response, no. This is something completely different. This is all of the hell she's gone through all coming crashing down at once. This is the physical abuse, the sexual brutalization, the psychological manipulation, all of it, finally breaking through the dam and overflowing. This is wild, ugly pain. This is the five years of waking up and dying each day, only to be mercilessly pulled out of the grave in the morning again.

"Oh sweetheart," I murmur, tears of grief building up in my own eyes as I hold the wailing child, unsure as to what I'm supposed to do; I know that there's no way for me to make this pain go away. All I can hope to do is carry her through it. "Oh my- Willa," I breathe as she chokes on her sobs, her tiny body heaving against me as she lets it all out, seemingly unable to hold anything back any longer.

Her painful cries last for several more minutes as I simply continue to cling to her as tightly as she's clinging to me, running my hand up and down her back and rocking her gently. "It's okay, sweetheart. Just let it out. It's okay, everything's going to be okay," I hum soothingly to her, wanting her to know that it's okay, that she's okay to let go. "I know, I know, baby; I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Willa. I'm so, so sorry, sweetheart." Eventually, I can sense her starting to lose energy as her bawling starts to wind down, slowly diminishing into soft whimpers and hiccups between shaky breaths. "I've got you. Daddy's got you," I remind her as she sniffles, her tears having well soaked through my shirt at this point.