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yoursinfulurges · 3 years

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AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom.

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst.

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back.

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you.

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health.

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion....

You were conflicted to no doubt.

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago.

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were.

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit.

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower.

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit.

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some.

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area.

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother.

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back...

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark.

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race].

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....)

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met...

🕸🕷🕸

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony.

"Dad!"

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker.

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question.

"Are you sure she's mine?"

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of.

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly.

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!"

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress.

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight."

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold.

"I want a cheese burger...."

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator.

🕸🕷🕸

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you.

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through.

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes.

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up.

"What do you think is happening up there?"

"Who knows"

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.'

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you.

He was insane.

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall...

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine.

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you.

All 108 suits....

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far.

Peter....

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road.

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground.

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more.

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this.

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening.

There!

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down.

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded.

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon.

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was.

Brock Rumlow....

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him....

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you...

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening...

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!"

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

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skirplyfe · 4 years

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Reflections

This year began with a trip to Portland with the girl.

A few weeks prior, two of my closest friends from High School overdosed and died days apart from each other. I’ve always struggled with depression and anxiety, but at no other time in my collegiate career were these two beasts more prevalent in my everyday life. My days were filled with a sense of dread, emotional instability, crippling panic attacks, and a complete lack of motivation. Getting out of bed was a herculean task at best, as my nights were filled with nightmares and an inability to achieve REM sleep. I was, in short, a complete mess.

All of this, coupled with a myriad of issues that had already plagued the girl and I’s relationship, began to take a toll around this time. There was an unspoken agreement that this trip north was to be our hail Mary attempt at mending whatever issues we had as a couple before she left to work in Southern California.

The first fight of the trip took place two hours into our drive as we crossed the Oregon border. Though the fit was short-lived, the animosity we felt towards one another echoed in the car for the remainder of our drive. I began to drink almost immediately after we arrived in the city, achieving a desired level of intoxication by around 10 that evening. I attempted to hide this from Sabrina.

The next few days followed a cycle of arguments and makeups, both of us attempting to hide our true irritabilities from one another in an effort to both savor the experience of being in a new city and ignore the rapid decay of what we began to realize was never a healthy relationship. The girl hid her emotions under a guise of busywork and tourism, and I, with rigorously scheduled drinking.

As we returned home, there was little conversation in the car. Sabrina slept and I drove, thinking the entire time of how best to approach the conversation I had so masterfully evaded for the last few months.

Through tears, she told me that we could work things out, that if I could just be a man and stop hyper-fixating on the negatives in my life I could be happy. She grew furious that I didn’t cry, asking how someone so emotional could be so cold in a moment like this. I wanted to cry for her, to make her feel better, but I couldn’t. She left early the next morning, making sure to tell me she loved me before departing. I wondered if the absence of feeling could be a feeling.

The spring semester began a few days later, though I paid little attention to anything related to academics. In the days following our return from Portland, it was hard for me to pay attention to anything. Every day felt the same as the last, with minor adjustments of figure and schedule. I scheduled appointments to see a therapist and a psychiatrist.

Each day began the same, with my brain waking before my body, that semi-consciousness that occurs before your eyes open. My mind would assess the state that I had left my body in the night before; dehydrated, sore, lungs filled with tar and liver working overtime. I avoided opening my eyes and letting in the pale morning light, knowing that doing so would allow the entirety of my self-abuse to rear its ugly head. I became apt at grabbing for the bottle of Advil next to my bed and chasing two pills with the water left out the night before. After, a sprint to the bathroom, making sure to turn on the shower and jump right into shock my body into acute consciousness. After a week or so, I was adept at this routine, so long as I could avoid the mirror. I rued the idea of looking into the mirror, as it was my sworn enemy.

I did my best to make it to classes, work, and convince those closest to me that I was fine. For the most part, I think I was pretty successful in the beginning. When people pushed me on certain topics like the breakup or my mental health, I was smart. I’d give them just enough to think I was struggling but maintain a jovial disposition and parry sensitive inquisition with a signature self-deprecating humor. It’s really easy to say how you’re actually feeling to everyone when they think you’re joking. The truth at that point was that I fucking hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t muster up the courage or drive to find anything I found interesting, let alone pursue it. I hated that I was getting fat and not taking care of myself. I hated the lethargy that maintained its presence at the forefront of my psyche. But the thing I hated most was my inability to change the narrative I had written for myself in my own head, that of a self-centered, arrogant, unintelligent bastard. All of this kept up for a couple of months, the weekdays and weekends blurring together in a haze of bad decisions, fueled by a burning desire for self-destruction and a loss of consciousness. I’ve been told I was really fun at parties.

Booze and an assortment of other intoxicating substances became even more of a mainstay then they already had been throughout college. For a short period, I decided that becoming a psychonaut could aid in my quest for redemption. However, I soon found that while mushrooms and LSD are on the safer side of recreational drug use, creating a chasm inside your own mind and hanging out there by yourself may not be the best course of action for a clinically depressed individual.

Eventually, I decided to attempt to sober up, at least a little. Drugs stopped being a mainstay of my group’s consumption, and we all began to invest more of our time into academic pursuits. This was hard for me, as I had completely lacked the motivation to do anything related to school for the last year. Frankly, it’s a miracle I haven’t been put on academic probation. Nevertheless, I did my best to at least attend classes and participate when I could. But then, as things were starting to look a little better, the entire world shut down due to the bitch known as COVID-19, the Novel Coronavirus.

Fuck me was this the worst time for a lockdown to happen. Just as I was beginning to leave my house and change my mindset about both myself and the world around me, it all went to shit. The last two months have been filled with every emotion across the spectrum; rage, depression, anxiety, and uncertainty have permeated through my thoughts on a daily basis. I’m angry at the way leaders and individuals across the country have completely fucked this situation and not given it the credence it deserved. I’m depressed that there’s no time limit to this crisis, and that things that would have light at the end of the tunnel have no concrete date. I’m anxious about school and the fact that I may have to repeat classes due to my inability to light a fire under my ass and do the work on my own volition. And finally, I’m uncertain about everything. Will things change because of this? Will I be able to grow from this experience or be destroyed by it? Will I be able to get a job? Will I be able to keep the job I already have? Is all of this worth it?

All of this being said, the trials and tribulations of the past six months have made me realize something; I have the best fucking group of friends a person could ask for.

I don’t have any close family, and I never really have. Thus, I’ve never really known what being a part of a caring and supportive group is like. The friendships I’ve made over the last three years have changed that entirely though. Never had I been around so many people that make it their priority to lift me up and support me through good times and bad, checking in and supplying me with the strength to carry on day by day. Never have I felt a reason to reciprocate those feelings either, through their emotional generosity I’ve been able to feel capable of empathizing and assisting with their navigation of trauma. As a whole, we’ve grown together throughout this entire experience.

Most of what I’ve written on these three pages may seem as though I’m stuck in a rut, and that my depression and anxiety is getting the best of me. In truth, writing this has really just given me a sense of catharsis, providing me with a checklist of not things that have defeated me in the last 185 days, but traumatic situations and ordeals that I’ve overcome. While I’m far from perfect or even being remotely successful, I’m still here throwing punches at everything life throws my way. I’ll always have bad days, but in turn, I’ll have good ones too. Though it’s hard for me right now to ignore the negatives in my life, it too is hard for me to ignore the positives. That’s progress, and I’ll take it.

#coivd #isolation #sober

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