How Much I Care - Stony

Chapter 11: Pain

So, haha, funny story: I got covid! Ummm, yeah. I'm so sorry I've been gone for literally almost a year, I feel so bad for leaving this unfinished but I really couldn't write for a while.

I'm still feeling some post-covid effects (which have been going on for a loooong time). I can't walk right now, my neck and back are killing me, pretty bad headaches, and my hands and feet always feel like they're asleep. I technically don't have covid anymore, but I still have some symptoms.

I'm not in the best place right now but I also really want to continue this book because I have a lot of fun writing it. I'm finally going to be back and updating this story, BUT it will most likely be fairly slow and the chapters might be a little short as well.

So, um, that's my life as of right now. I'm probably going to delete this intro once I really get back into writing but I just wanted you guys to know what was going on. I'm sorry again that I just suddenly left without saying anything, leaving all my books hanging. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

>>>>>>><<<<<<<

Normal P.O.V.

Later that night, Tony found himself in the same predicament as the night before. He desperately wanted to go down to the lab. He needed to go down to the lab. It was the only way for him to really express his emotions and work off what he was feeling. Not being able to have that release, especially with everything going on, pained him.

However, he knew where he had hidden all of the alcohol from Natasha, in secret compartments that would be literally impossible for her to find, much less open. The moment he got down there he knew what would happen, he could not resist it.

Was he an addict? Could he really not go a single night without drinking in the lab? Tony hated himself for not being able to resist his urges. Every night he felt the pain in his chest and throat and needed a way to make that pain go away, so he went down to the lab and drank. Then, he felt bad for disobeying direct orders from the doctor, Natasha, and Steve, and hated himself, causing him to drink even more. The next morning he would get yelled at and would be constantly reminded of his pain, so he would go drink. It was a neverending cycle!

He couldn't escape. He couldn't escape the pain. He couldn't escape his own urges. He couldn't escape from the pitiful looks and the silence. Everything followed him, everywhere he went. He couldn't escape!

A raspy sob shook out and he could feel the agonizing pain tearing through his upper chest. He clutched at his throat but couldn't help the silent, painful, tears that streamed down his face. His eyes were shut tight from the pain as he desperately felt around his bedside table for something, anything.

He started to hyperventilate and there was a loud ringing in his ear. He had felt this way many times before, but this time he had nothing to take the pain away. He tried to keep his mouth closed in an attempt to stop himself from using his voice, but the pain only got worse as his breathing deepened.

His mind swirled and he started to feel light-headed and dizzy. All he could feel was the pain. The pain in his heart, the pain in his head, the pain in his throat, the pain. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't make it go away. He tried to hide but it would always find him. Was he really so pathetic? He couldn't take it. It hurt so bad. He was being swallowed by it. The pain, the pain, the pain.

He fell off his bed, hitting his head on the floor. He cried out silently in an instinctual reaction, only causing more sharp, searing pain that felt like his throat was being torn apart.

His arm swung out and he felt his hand slap skin. He jolted as something grabbed onto his arm and tried to hold it still. He struggled to open his eyes but his vision was blurry, and he could not make out what was in front of him.