Stucky's daughter

33

After the excruciating meeting, Steve's grip on my arm tightened, forcing me into the bathroom. Panic surged through me, and I desperately tried to break free, but his strength overwhelmed me. He ruthlessly pushed me onto the cold bench, his fingers gripping my face with a cruel intensity.

In my desperate struggle for escape, I unleashed a torrent of hits, slaps, kicks, and even resorted to biting, but Steve remained unfazed. His grip on me didn't waver, his intentions clear and menacing.

Just when it seemed like there was no hope, the door swung open with a resounding crash. Bucky burst into the bathroom, his eyes widening at the scene before him. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed towards us, determined to intervene. He took hold of my trembling hands, offering a lifeline in that terrifying moment.

Yet, my fear and anger still surged within me, causing my body to resist even the comfort of Bucky's touch. The situation escalated further as they called upon Thor and Clint for assistance, their presence only adding to the chaos. Together, they struggled to contain my frenzied resistance, their efforts becoming a cacophony of strained grunts and pleas.

Amidst the chaotic struggle, a small glimmer of fortune appeared. Clint inadvertently released his grip on my leg, and in a desperate act of self-defense, I managed to land a kick on Steve. The impact startled him, his grip on my face finally loosening, revealing blood trickling from his nose.

Just as the tension reached its zenith, Tony stormed into the room, swiftly taking control of the situation. With calm efficiency, he tended to my wounded face, while I remained trapped in the iron grip of those who sought to protect me. Even in my agony and confusion, I couldn't find the strength to voice my pain or make sense of the turmoil inside me.

Overwhelmed and unable to bear the weight of the moment any longer, I bolted from the room and sprinted to my sanctuary upstairs. As I entered my room, tears streaming down my face, I found solace in the sight of Morgan, engrossed in her innocent play. Without hesitation, she rushed to me, embracing me with the love and warmth that only a child could provide.

Drained both physically and emotionally, I collapsed onto the bed, my eyes fixated on Morgan as she continued to play. Exhaustion claimed me, and I slipped into a fitful sleep. When I eventually stirred, I discovered myself on the couch downstairs, my disheveled state a haunting reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

To my surprise, Steve stood nearby, a blood-stained handkerchief clutched tightly in his hand. The others gathered around me, concern etched on their faces. Bruce, in his usual composed manner, requested my presence, leading me downstairs. Reluctantly, I followed, both Steve and Bucky trailing behind.

Inside the examination room, Bruce instructed me to stand in the corner as he prepared to assess my physical state. Uncertainty clouded my gaze as I glanced between Bruce and my father, seeking reassurance. Yet, my hopes were dashed when Bruce insisted that I remove my clothes, sparking a ten-minute argument that tested my resolve.

Finally, I succumbed to their insistence and shed my garments, feeling exposed and vulnerable. With a mix of discomfort and shame, I made my way to the scale as Bruce determined my height and weight. His words pierced through the heavy silence, declaring me painfully underweight at 39 kilograms. His concern for my well-being was evident, urging me to eat for my own sake.

Trying to hide my inner turmoil, I feigned gratitude for his observation, though deep down, I resented their interference. I hastily slipped back into Bucky's shirt and my shorts, desperate to regain a sense of normalcy. Gathering my shattered composure, I ventured into the kitchen, where Morgan was occupied with her toys.

Curiosity filled her eyes as she inquired about my plans, and I feigned a smile, claiming I was off to practice for dance class. She nodded, her innocent acceptance providing a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos. Making my way to the training room, I immersed myself in dance, seeking refuge in the familiar movements and rhythms.

As I finished my routine, exhaustion washed over me, forcing me to lay down on the cool floor. Minutes later, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, announcing Bucky's presence. His concerned gaze met mine, filled with a mixture of compassion and worry. Without a word, he silently conveyed that dinner was ready.

I stared blankly at him, remaining stubbornly planted on the floor. Sensing my resistance, he approached, extending a hand to help me up. My instinctive reaction was to recoil, to flee once again from their control. But Steve, positioned firmly by the door, prevented any chance of escape. Defeated, I allowed them to lift me, depositing me into a child seat, my attempts to undo the buckle proving futile.

Trapped and filled with mounting panic, I struggled against the restraints, my mind consumed by fear. Steve's voice cut through the chaos, attempting to calm me down, promising freedom in exchange for compliance. I shook my head vehemently, my desperation intensifying as I fought against the seatbelt that refused to yield to my touch.

While the others ate, I remained confined, my body growing heavy with exhaustion until sleep claimed me in the uncomfortable chair. When I woke, disoriented and defeated, I found myself back in my room. Determined to confront the tumultuous reality that awaited me downstairs, I descended the stairs, my gaze filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

As I entered the dining area, witnessing everyone indulging in their meals, a surge of resentment coursed through me. Peter, with his innocent intentions, moved towards me, seeking solace in a hug. In that moment, frustration consumed me, and I lashed out, delivering a sharp slap across his face. His expression transformed into one of profound sadness, mirroring the pain in my own heart.

Immediately regretting my outburst, I embraced him, my voice choked with emotion as I expressed my conflicting feelings. "You're such an idiot, you dummy! I hate you, okay?" I paused, my voice softening, tears streaming down my face. "But I also love you. Please promise me you'll be my best friend..."

Peter nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. The weight of our shared pain enveloped us, and we clung to each other tightly. Gently wiping away his tears, I locked my gaze with his, pleading for him to understand the depths of my anguish. "I'll do anything, just please, please stop crying..."

Peter's voice trembled as he spoke, his vulnerability laid bare. "Okay, then eat with me, please..."

For a brief moment, I regarded him incredulously, disbelief etched upon my face. But recognizing the genuine concern in his eyes, I relented, offering a tentative agreement. He prepared the food, and I ate hesitantly, watching his smile grow with each small morsel I consumed. It was a fragile moment of connection, a ray of hope amidst the darkness that plagued my soul.

With a renewed sense of determination, I made my way downstairs for one last practice session. The weight of their watchful eyes bore down on me as I poured my heart into every movement. As the final notes of the music faded, signaling the end of my performance, I felt a mix of relief and vulnerability wash over me. My father and the other Avengers, silent witnesses to my dance, held expressions that revealed a complex blend of concern and admiration.

Exhausted from the day's emotional roller coaster, I retreated to the comfort of the couch in the living room. It was there that Peter, my steadfast companion, took his place beside me. Resting my weary head on his shoulder, I allowed myself a moment of respite.

In a gesture both gentle and protective, Peter lifted me in his arms and carried me to his room. As we passed the gazes of the others, their eyes filled with curiosity and concern, I couldn't help but let out a laugh. The absurdity of the situation, the juxtaposition of vulnerability and strength, seemed almost comical.

Laid down gently on his bed, I looked up at Peter, grateful for his unwavering presence. His eyes, fixed upon me, held an unspoken understanding, a shared pain that transcended words. With a tenderness that belied his youth, he comforted me, easing me into a much-needed sleep.