Hello, My Name Is.
It goes like that.
Hello, my name is Darcy and I'm a recovering anorexic.
Darcy keeps her arms crossed at all times. She gained back half the weight she lost at college within a week at the hospital. Such is life when a doctor insists on 3,000 calories a day. She cooperates to gain the benefit of leaving her room every so often. She makes friends with the other girls. They nod to each other with in a sick comradeship. Group therapy is bullshit.
Darcy knew chaos before The Avengers, before Thor. Before even leaving for college, she knew the feeling of being trapped somewhere, and it wasn't just inside her own head.
She seemed indifferent to her family. But she'd never let them know, that it was their fault. They started it when she had to spend every second of her life begging for her right to exist.
She knew what it was like to love someone who didn't give a shit about her, someone who didn't care if she was alive or not. She didn't need someone to ever play the bad guy because they'd always been there.
She knew love unrequited turned into a tangle wrapping up inside her, only to be tucked away so as not to make innocent bystanders uncomfortable. Scar tissue.
She didn't need Bruce to know hate.