Warnings: Dark Cap, Traumatic Brain Injury, PTSD, and Slightly Disturbing Images
It was a little after four in the morning, and Steve had been sitting in the pitch black kitchen for almost an hour, staring into the dark. The nightmares and flashbacks had gotten worse. No matter how hard he tried, there was no running from his own mind.
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The nightmares and flashbacks were somewhat normal, Steve had them since he was awoken from the ice, but the frequency and intensity had become almost unbearable. His mind was slipping. He wasn't the same Steve.
When you walked into the kitchen the next morning, Steve was still sitting there, covered in blood, and a deadpan look in his eyes.
After questioning him of what's wrong, and what happened, he broke down into tears.
"I could have killed him, I almost killed him. I don't even remember why we were fighting, only that I had a hatred, an anger, for this man I just met. The only thing to keep me from delivering the fatal blow, were the sirens," Anguish and shame were evident in his voice as he pressed his forehead into his hand, "I'm a monster."
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