Nomad | Hawkeye FF ✓

MENTAL BREAKDOWNS AND TRUST ISSUES

    AT the moment, it was rather difficult for Sophie to put up a quick defensive move against her attacker in such a state of horrifying shock. It seemed, all those hours of training at the Professor's school had vanished from her memory, at a desperate time she needed those educational tips in such a crisis. 

     Her sight was fixed on the crumbled lump of her older sister's body that laid lifelessly in a pole of her own blood; most likely dead as Sophie saw no sign of her chest rise or fall. Her legs were planted firmly in front of the door, just, staring. Her mouth parted.

     She barely had time to react to—or was aware of—Joseph picking himself up off the floor and creeping her way. The scrape of his boots made her mind scream at her to look behind herself, but she refused to listen to her mind at a time like this.

     He was closing in on her, shortening the safe gap between them, and raising his gun hand. "SOPHIE!" A familiar voice shouted down the hall, the door to the room was left wide open.

     Sophie somewhat flinched at her name being called, but still didn't budge. She remained in her spot as a gun fired and ricocheted off something that flew through the door, and sliced past them. The sharp noise pierced through her ears. A second later, in her peripheral vision, she saw a large, dark, blob clobber Joseph to the ground and strike him with one blow of their fist. 

     It just wasn't the man's day.

     "Sophie! Didn't you hear me calling you!?" Slowly, she began to register Steve's voice, and heard the scraping sound of his shield being picked up off the floor. "Sophie!" he snapped again. "Look at me. What were you—" Halfway through his burst of outrage, as he stood next to her, his eyes glanced over to where hers never lifted away and fell silent. His face paled under his helmet and nothing came out of his mouth as his lips parted. 

     "My," Sophie started, soft as a whisper, "...sister." 

     Suddenly, Sophie felt two large hands grip each side of her shoulders, forcing her to turn around. One split second she was staring at her sister's bloody form, then the next, she was looking directly up at Steve. Eyes watering, throat tightening, and all her energy was disappearing. She felt so weak, small, afraid, and so alone.

     "Sophie I need you to trust me." From then on, she didn't hear Steve anymore. She saw his lips moving, his head slightly lowered to hers, but the words were fuzzy, muffled, and choppy. 

    Trust. 

     That word again. The one word she believed wasn't reliable to stand by, accept or feel comfortable enough to agree to. Every time she heard the word, it was as if she was falling out of a plan without a parachute, her only Saviour, and expecting to leap together with that stranger who did have a parachute. Trusting they'll safety land.  

     "Sophie," Steve said. She blinked back into reality, and caught the end of his speech that made her want to vomit with everything else that which hit her so hard at once. The scene of her sister, the rush of anxiety mixed with fear that she lost her, and Joseph—someone also so dear to her, had nearly killed her. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

     With what she witnessed in that broom closet, to their peculiar friendship where they always bashed heads, she wouldn't consider Captain America her friend at all. However, she was on the verge of a mental breakdown, right in the middle of battle. 

     It was only a matter of time before her hands would begin to violently shake, and her eyes gloss over into that lost far away appearance. Then the screams, and uncontrollable flow of tears would follow next in the wake of a panic attack. She had a whirlwind of an untamed emotional storm thrashing within her. She couldn't think straight, let alone have enough time to form a sentence and make a reply.