The end of the line [Bucky Barnes]

Denial

Helen wakes up in a pool of sweat on her couch.
Her heart is pounding in her chest, and her eyes dart frantically to each corner of the living room.
The blue light of the alarm is steady, signaling it's still on.
She gets up and sits on the edge of the couch as frames of her nightmare play in her mind like scenes from a wicked movie.

Helen stands up and drags her feet to the kitchen. She takes a glass of water and glances at the clock on the wall.
7:30 am, at least this time, she got two hours of sleep.
She leaves the glass on the countertop and goes to the bathroom.

Helen looks at her image reflected in the mirrored cabinet over the sink.
Her skin is pale, and dark bags pop under her tired eyes.
It's been a month since she left the hospital, and she hasn't slept well since.
Every time her eyes are closed, nightmares come to keep her tied to what happened.
Helen opens the cabinet and grabs the Prozac bottle, popping two pills in her mouth. 
She bends over the sink and gets some water to swallow the two tablets.

A muffled sound coming from the living room makes her body tense.
She hears the lock of the main entrance unlock, and she rushes into her bedroom.
The alarm sets off, and there's a crushing sound.
Helen reaches for the loaded gun on the nightstand. 
She got it the day she went back home, hoping it would make her feel safer.

The lights are off, but this isn't a problem.
She presses her back against the wall, keeping her armed hand long at her side.
Light footsteps stop at her bedroom door, and then they move again towards the other side of the house.
Helen walks outside, turning on the lights and aiming the gun in front of her.

"Wow, it's me!" Natasha utters, putting her hands up.
"Helen, it's me, Nat." She says again as Helen puts down the gun, sighing in relief.
"What are you doing here?" Helen asks, stopping the alarm.
"I saw Bucky yesterday. He told me you're not answering the phone." She says, looking at the answering machine. "He's worried."
Helen walks to the kitchen and starts making coffee, "If he's worried, why did he sent you?" she scoffs without looking at her.

Nat sighs, "You know he feels responsible for what happened. He thinks you are ignoring him because you are mad at him or something." She implies with a tone that shows her concern.

No one expects her to go back to her life as nothing happened, but her shutting out anyone makes her friends worry.
She isn't working, doesn't go out, and her voicemail takes all her calls.
"I'm not mad at him." she peeps, pouring coffee into two mugs.
Helen hands the mug to Nat, and they sit at the dining table.
"You cut him off, like the rest of us." Nat hums, looking at her.
"I know you're not ok, Helen. And you have all the right to not feel ok." 

Helen looks up at her, her brows furrowed in discomfort.
Avoiding her friends let her avoid talking about what happened, and now Nat was blowing all her efforts.
"I am ok." She lies, unable to unpack all her emotions.
She's far from ok.
Insomnia and nightmares are just the tip of the iceberg.

"When was the last time you left this apartment?" Nat hints, crossing her arms on her chest. "Yesterday," Helen says quickly.
"Don't lie to my face like this, malishka." Nat choruses, leaning over the table.
"Look, I know you're trying to get back to normality, but I think that avoiding the problem and isolating yourself is not the right move." Natasha's words aren't judging or harsh.
"You need help, Helen. Professional help." She croons, watching Helen tense up.
"I appreciate your interest. Now I'm sorry, but I've some work to do." She stands up, followed by Nat.

"Helen," she sighs, walking in front of her, "promise me you will talk to someone, please?" Nat presses, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.
"I love you, Helen. I can't stand to see another friend disappear under my eyes." she peeps, feeling a knot in her stomach.
Helen embraces her in a hug, breathing in her scent and burying her face in her hair.
"I love you too," Helen whispers as Nat hugs her tighter.