Therapy sessions
"I really can't think of much, I think I've repressed it too much to really want to think about it." Bruce said, glancing up at his therapist.
"Well, try it, let's see how much you can think of." She said, looking at Bruce with those kind eyes.
"I remember how much it hurt. It went through the front of my leg, right underneath my kneecap. I remember going to school in the morning, really excited. I don't... I..." He paused, looking up once again. "I remember seeing my mom, just, laying there. It smelled like iron. Then I saw my dad, he looked like he was going to murder me. I guess he tried too but, it was so... loud. My ears where ringing for the next few days. I can't really recall much more than that."
Bruce walked out of the clinic about an hour after that conversation with his therapist, every week he remembered a little more of the night his father had killed his mother, and the night he had gotten shot in the leg. Bruce's dad had always been abusive but... neither him, nor his mom had thought he would snap like that. Bruce took a deep breath of fresh air, scolding himself for thinking about it outside of therapy. He grabbed his helmet, hopped on his moped, and took off down the street at a careful but fast speed.
Bruce had moved to New York two years after the incident. while he lived back in his old town, he had never gotten help for the trauma he had faced on that day. He wondered if he could ever really recover from it. He guessed not, but as his best friend constantly told him, "there's always hope."
As the tiny scooter made it's way down the winding roads, Bruce had plenty time to think. He was going over to said best friends house after he got to his home, but after that, he didn't know what he would do. He guessed he would stay until Aunt May finished making dinner, then he would take a short shower, brush his teeth, and go to bed. He had already packed for the next day of school before he left, as he hadn't needed to do any homework. (He'd done it all at school.)
The time rushed by as fast as the streets did and soon, Bruce found himself at the small house he and his adoptive family called home.
Bruce parked next to Ben's car, closing the garage door as he entered his house.
"I'm home! He said, limping into the room.
"Hi Bruce!" Peter called from the couch where he slouched over a piece of paper.
"Biology or math?" Bruce walked over to the couch and leaned over, glancing at the paper.
"Biology, you know I'm good at math."
Bruce laughed and ruffled his younger brothers hair.
"I know, I know, I was just being mean, Pete. Do you want help?"
"No, my teacher says I should try working it out myself before I ask you."
"Alright, kid. Hey uhm... is Aunt May home? Or Uncle Ben? I'm going to the Odinsons, I just want them to know where I am." He said, looking up at the stairs like the two would magically appear just because he had said their names.
"Yeah, Uncle Ben's upstairs, Aunt May's on her way home." Peter smiled as Bruce quickly thanked him and made his way up the stairs.
"Ben?" Bruce called out to the quiet upstairs.
"In my room, kid!" He heard the elder call out. Bruce walked into the room, seeing his uncle sitting on a rocking chair reading a book. The blinds were open, showing a nice view of the street below. Ben was an older gentleman, his graying hair only amplifying his kind face. Ben looked up and smiled at Bruce as he cracked open the door.
"How was therapy today, kiddo?" Ben asked, smiling softly at the young teen.
"It was okay." He replied, looking down at his feet.
"Just okay?"
"I had to talk about the day my mom died, and you know how much I hate talking about that."
"Oh, alright." Ben said, a grin spreading across his face. "What did you need from me?" The older man said "normally you don't talk to us one on one unless you need something.
"I just wanted to tell you I was going over to the Odinsons."
"Alright, come back before 8, it's a school night." Ben said, looking up and smiling.
Bruce had made his way down the street, walking slightly hindered by his leg. When Bruce's mother had died, Bruce's father had shot him right below the knee cap. Bruce would probably never fully recover, he had waited too long to go to physical therapy and he had limped for ages.
It took about 10 minutes to reach the house, a fancy medieval looking thing. The walls were made of various sizes of stone, wood pillars holding up the over hanging roof. It was a smaller house, one story on top of the ground and one underneath. The porch was also rather small, just underneath the dark oak door. Bruce held up his hand, hesitating for a second before knocking lightly on it.
It took about 30 seconds for the wonderful Frigga Odinson to open the door, smiling.
"Bruce! Come in, come in!" She said, waving her hand. "And I've told you, you don't need to knock, you practically live here."
"I know, I know, I just don't want to feel like I'm intruding, what if I come in at a bad time? I just uhm, I just worry."
Frigga smiled, patting Bruce on the back and rubbing softly. Bruce smiled, glancing up.
"You're always welcomed here, my child."
Frigga had often had a habit of calling him her son, her child. After all the time they had spent in the same house, Bruce had felt like the Odinsons where his family, too.
"Is uhm... is Thor here?" Bruce asked, glancing in the direction of the blondes room.
"Like always, Loki is here too, if you need to talk to him."
"Thank you, Mo- Frigga." He smiled, choking on his words before walking quickly towards the room of his closest friend. He could almost hear a soft sigh from the direction of the woman who had always cared for him.
Bruce knocked on Thor's door quickly, before saying "Are you decent?"
"Hang on, let me put on pants!"
"Why do you never have on pants when I come over?"
"Because I am a teenage boy, I like having my pants off!"
Bruce snorted, a soft sound that Bruce didn't really like. He heard Thor laugh on the other side of the door, a hearty booming noise.
The door opened, revealing the buff figure of the other teenager smiling down at Bruce.
Thor was tall, very tall for a 15 year old. He was about 6'11 already, a very muscular lad as he had played football for the longest time. He had shoulder length hair, dirty blond. He had slight stubble, and a strong jaw. His nose was slightly crooked, it had been broken when he was 10, long story short, a kid punched him in the face.
"Come in, come in, Brucey bear!"
"Alright, alright, thunder cat."
Bruce walked into the messy room of the one and only Thor, he hadn't bothered picking up the clothes scattered about the floor. The posters on the wall showing various comic book super heroes, his two favorite being the god of Thunder, Thor, who was his favorite, most likely because they shared their names, and the incredible Hulk, he also had a large poster with all of the the characters of the large universe.
His bed was a mess, his large blanket was falling off the mattress and the pillow was in the center of the fabrics. The sheets were wrinkled from Thor sleeping on them.
"I'm kind of guessing that you slept in until noon again."
"That is, true but offensive." Thor snorted.
"I guess I just know how to offend you."
They sat around watching tv and doing nothing for about an hour, the time passing by quickly and quietly.
"DR. ASSHAT WHERE DID YOU PUT MY COAT."
"Loki, watch your language!" They all heard Frigga say sternly.
"Sorry mum!" Loki replied.
"Yeah, Dr. Asshat, where did you put his coat?" Bruce laughed.
"You watch your mouth too, Bruce!"
"Sorry!"
Thor sighed, hanging his head.
"I put it in the closet, I already told you!" Thor said.
"Well it's not there." Loki said, peeking his head into the room.
"Hey, Bruce."
"Hey, Loki."
Loki was thinner than both of the others in the room. He was younger than the others, too. His longer hair wasn't quite as long as Thor's, it fell to about the middle of his neck, it was always slightly greasy which annoyed his mom and Loki, himself.
His small frame filled up the crack in the door, he was dressed to go outside but without any sort of jacket or coat. Bruce stood, walking over to the door and pulling it open.
"Let me check, I'm sure I can find it."
"Fine, go right ahead."
Bruce wandered over to the closet, opening it and digging for only a second.
"This is it, right?" Bruce said, pulling out the black coat and handing it to the younger kid.
Loki hung his head and grabbed the coat, mumbling a quick thank you before walking away. Bruce laughed loudly, the noise quickly turning into a soft chortle.
Bruce left only a little bit after the encounter with Loki, deciding that Aunt May had probably finished dinner by that point. Waving goodbye, Bruce slowly limped his way down the street, watching as the sun began to slowly set over the horizon. Bruce loved the sunset, it was his favorite time of day, the magentas, purples, and oranges almost bleeding into the blue of the sky.
Bruce stopped walking soon before he reached his house, watching as the sun finally dipped below the skyline, leaving nothing but the soft glow of the now purple sky. The soft glow of the sunset reflected on his face, reflecting in his brown eyes. A soft breeze began, causing the jacket he was wearing to flap softly in the wind. Bruce closed his eyes, silently wishing that that day would never end, that he would be able to stay right there and never have to worry about anything ever again.
He knew it wouldn't happen but he wished that he would just be able to live like nothing had ever happened, like his mom and dad where still alive and he was still living in his old house with his old friends and...
Bruce felt the soft sting of tears in his eyes, he rubbed at them, sniffing softly and turning away from the darkening sky, Bruce finished making his way to his house pausing at the door before pushing it open and entering it.
Every day is a new opportunity to feel better, a day to change your life forever, and Bruce knew that he would one day be able to feel better. Until then, he would strive to feel like he always wanted to feel.
Tomorrow was another day.