Chapter 43
"How's she doing?" Tony asks Clint.
"Ok, I think. She seems calmer now. Hey, have you noticed that Jamie has lost some weight. She can't weigh much more than Lila now and she just turned seven."
Bruce grimaces, "Yeah, we've noticed. In fact, I talked to Steve about it earlier today. We have to be more forceful with making her eat. Did she say if the pill I gave her helped?"
"Yeah, she said that her stomach was starting to feel better."
"Well, I made her something that I know she loves to eat, and it's got lots of calories," Steve announces while dropping off a plate and bowl at Jamie's place at the table. "We should plan to have pizza for dinner, she loves that too."
Nat guides me to the table where I find food already waiting for me. It doesn't look appetizing at all.
Bruce, noticing the disgusted look on my face, instructs, "Jamie, you really need to try to eat that."
I sigh, the meal looking like far too much food.
"Drink?" Tony says, then hands me a glass of chocolate milk.
I take a few sips of milk then put the cup on the table. I pick up the sandwich, tear off a corner and dip it into the soup then take a small bite. Everyone is staring at me, watching me take a bite so I put down my food and start to push it away.
"Jamie, you have to eat more," Steve demands while tearing the sandwich into quarters. "Here…eat that piece."
I don't like being told to eat or having each bite monitored. So, I pick up the spoon and swallow a spoonful of soup instead of eating the sandwich. This is infuriating.
"Why is everyone watching me? It's weirding me out," I complain.
Everyone begins to try to look elsewhere. I guess that's better. I manage to eat the quarter of my sandwich and about half of the soup. Tony pushes the milk closer to me. I sigh but comply drinking about a third of the cup.
"Can I be done now?" I ask, almost begging.
Steve first looks at Bruce who nods then says, "Yeah, you can be done."
I notice the look between Steve and Bruce. They are ganging up on me, again! I get up from the table and storm off. Steve follows, stopping me at the exit to the main entrance.
"What's going on?" Steve asks.
I growl, frustrated and angry, "Leave me alone."
"Did something happen?"
I stand with my arms crossed just staring at Steve with a scowl.
"Jamie."
"You guys are ganging up on me."
"With eating?"
"Yes!"
"I'm sorry, we don't mean to gang up on you, we just really need to make sure you are eating."
"Fine, whatever. Please leave me alone now."
Not only does Steve remain where he is standing but the others join us. This is infuriating. I slide down the door and sit curled up laying my head on my hands against my knees. This whole day has been awful. I'm so tired and all I've done is look at a stupid picture. I start to cry thinking about how much I've hated being me today. Steve puts a tentative arm around my shoulder testing my reaction. The gesture works, I lean into it so Steve scoops me onto his lap and holds me.
They wait another half hour before returning to the desensitization stuff. Clint holds me again, Nat showing me the picture. It's so much harder this time. Blood draining from my face, I immediately freeze, feeling myself losing touch as the memory flashes in my mind, flinching as the boy hits me in my mind. Someone is talking but the boy's words are louder, 'Are you allowed to move or to make noise?' Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. 'Are you allowed to move or to make noise?' Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.
Steve is nearby, gently touching my cheek, bringing me back to the present, "Jamie. Jamie, look at me." As I begin to notice my surroundings, Steve smiles as relief washes over him now that I am more aware of him, "Jamie, can you talk?"
I look away, not responding.
Clint repositions me so I am curled up against his chest, one arm wrapped around me and with the other hand, Clint strokes my hair. "It's ok baby girl. You're ok."
Steve calls Jen for some guidance while the team eagerly waits to hear what Jen recommended.
Steve explains, "Jen said we should go back a few levels when we first start up again but build back up faster with two or three trials at each of the lower levels. She also said to put more time in between trials to give Jamie more time to recover." The team is satisfied that there's a solution.
We take a long break, allowing me to not only recover but to have some fun too. Steve and I play video games in my room for a bit until Clint returns with pizzas for dinner. I am more eager to eat this time. After dinner, Steve suggests ice cream for a special treat, so I eat a bowl of chocolate ice cream with sprinkles.
The plan is to run more trials now that we are done eating. Clint wants to hold me again, maybe because it didn't go so well last time so I climb up onto his lap sitting sideways snuggling into his chest. Steve gets ready to show me the picture, the job that no one wanted to do, "I'm only going to hold the picture up for five seconds then it will be gone. Ready?"
I nod. Clint also responds by holding me tighter, placing a kiss on my head.
Steve holds up the picture, my body immediately reacts stiffening but as soon as the picture is removed, I start to relax. This might actually work. We run through several more trials quickly moving back up but getting stuck again at fifteen seconds. Clint agrees to continue holding me at my request, but different people hold up the card. It's definitely getting harder to keep myself under control and I don't feel like I'm completely ok anymore.
"Can we stop now," I plead, still feeling scared several minutes after the latest trial.
Steve comes over to me placing his hand on my cheek. "Yes, we can stop for today," Steve soothes. "Oh, and we picked up some crayons and some paper for you. I think it would be good for you to draw how you're feeling, just like the picture that you drew while we were at Clint's."
"You think that's a good thing?" I ask incredulously.
"Yes, I do," Steve defends, "It's important for you to express what you're thinking and feeling. With words being harder for you, drawing is a great alternative."
Although Clint continued to snuggle me on his lap for a long time, I can't seem to convince my body that I'm ok. Clint continues to rub my back and arm and stroke my hair but is concerned that I haven't returned to normal yet. "Hey Bruce," Clint calls.
Bruce comes over to us and places his hand on my shoulder noticing that I am still shaking some and my heart is thumping. "Jamie, how are you feeling?"
"Ok, just a little shaky."
"Yeah, I can see that." Bruce says, making a joke but the humor not reaching his eyes. "I think we should go to the infirmary to check you out."
"No!" I scream, immediately in full panic mode jumping out of Clint's lap, backing up to a corner where I curl up to be as small as possible.
Steve, Tony, and Nat hear the commotion, running into the room to see what's going on. Everyone positions themselves so they are lower to the ground reflecting my posture to appear less threatening. Steve looks over at Bruce to find out what happened. Bruce quietly fills him in on the details, "She hasn't calmed down yet from the last trial. I suggested going to the infirmary to get checked."
Steve nods, understanding the situation. "Can I sit next to you?" Steve presses softly.
Although he moves cautiously, Steve's movement startles me causing me to flinch. Steve immediately halts in response to my fear then looks at the others for suggestions. Bruce points to himself, meaning the Hulk. Steve nods knowing Hulk has the best chance at helping me to calm down. Bruce slowly backs away then changes to Hulk.
A minute later, I hear Hulk's deep, rough voice. He slowly moves closer to me, holding out his hands offering to comfort me. In that moment, all I want is Hulk, like his presence alone is as essential as air, my arms reach out, allowing him to pick me up. Hulk brings me into a hug, with my arms around his neck and my head lying on his shoulder, my face tucked up against his neck. Hulk gently rubs my back, calming my body.
Steve approaches slowly, "Are you ready to talk?"
I squeeze Hulk tighter not wanting to talk about anything, but Hulk interjects, "Jamie talk."
I loosen my grip, feeling defeated, even Hulk is going to make me talk. He puts me down on his lap facing outward; I'm grateful that he continues to hold me but I keep my head down, not wanting to look at anyone.
"Jamie talk," Hulk commands.
Overwhelmed with the constant barrage of fear today, their demand that I talk is too much. Before Hulk tells me to talk again, I try to take refuge in my room but Steve stops me after only a few steps.
"Please don't stop me right now, please," I am nearly in tears, desperate for a break, "I need some time, please."
"Ok, but I want to come with you."
I nod. Steve and I go to my room, where I make a beeline for my bed, climbing under the covers and pulling them up over my head. Steve sits on the edge of my bed with one hand on my leg just below my knee. He waits in silence for when I'm ready. When I've recovered enough, I pull down the covers from over my head, noticing it is no longer light outside.
Steve asks, "Feeling better?"
I nod, still preferring to remain silent.
"I want you to talk about what's going on."
I shake my head, a few tears beginning to run down my cheeks.
"How about you draw what you're feeling instead?"
The last time I had paper and crayons didn't turn out so well, but then again, Steve said that it was good for me. I sit up in my bed and nod, drawing is better than talking. Taking a deep breath, I sit at my desk where Steve set up the paper and crayons. My heart races as I look down at the inconspicuous paper, knowing just how wrong this can turn out.
"Just draw whatever you want."
I nod then watch as Steve goes to the hallway giving me some space. I'm sure he's right outside my door, the thought causing me to sigh heavily.
My mind races while looking at the paper, trying to imagine what's hidden there underneath the empty whiteness of the paper. Emotions stir inside of me but I don't know what it is. Perhaps the box of crayons will hold the answer. I look through the rainbow of colors trying to find the one that seems to match whatever is going on inside my heart. I pull a green crayon, no that's not right. I pick a blue one, no, too serene. I try an orange but that feels too tame. I pull a red. Yes, I think I'm feeling red. I'm not sure what I am going to draw but I put the tip of the crayon on the paper and begin to drag it across the paper. I have a burst of rage that is translated onto the page, with wild, dark, sharp lines. It's missing something…it's missing the darkness. I look through the box to find the black crayon then add it to the red. A face, there should be a face in the middle of the red. I use the black crayon to make the eyes and mouth using short dark lines. I draw myself in the corner of the page, small, naked, tied up, crying, with eyes full of fear.
I look at my picture, feeling small, vulnerable, exposed. I angrily ball up my artwork and throw it across the room then swipe the paper and crayons off of the desk. Tears stream down my face as my rage boils over. I pick up my chair and throw it against the wall then reach for the desk. As my hands contact the wooden surface, strong arms wrap around my chest, restraining me. I scream, fighting against the hold, swinging and kicking, wrenching my whole body trying to free myself of its grasp. I scream again feeling myself being dragged to the bed. "No!" Don't hurt me, please. I beg silently knowing the rules. Unable to move my arms or to stop this, I disconnect, no longer feeling my body only my mind, saying over and over 'Are you allowed to move? Are you allowed to make noise? Are you allowed to move? Are you allowed to make noise?'
An urgent voice calls from far away, "You're safe."
Steve? I start to cry. Don't hurt me please, don't hurt me. I won't move, I won't talk.
"Jamie, you are safe."
Clint?
"Calm down, you're ok. No one is going to hurt you."
Tony?
"Breathe Jamie, breathe. You're ok."
Steve?
My body reacts to the familiar safe voices allowing me to feel my body again. Stealing a peek through tear-soaked eye lashes I see Clint and Tony. Tony is holding the picture that I drew watching me, his eyes filled with sadness and anger, then looks at the picture again. "I am so sorry baby girl. I hate that someone did this to you. I hate that boy," Tony laments, seeing the pain normally tucked away inside of me, strewn across the page in my red and black drawing.
The grip on my arms loosens and is adjusted into a hug. Steve talks to me, from behind, "We love you baby girl. We love you so much. We won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe."
I close my eyes soaking in the love that these people freely give me. I do feel safe, with them by my side, knowing they will protect me. My body comes down from its rampage, filled once again with remorse for making a mess and causing a problem.
"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong," Clint comforts me, not wanting guilt to be added to the mix.
"I'm calm now," I say feeling a little embarrassed having everyone in here restraining me or talking to me or both, sincerely wishing they would leave me alone. They seem to sense how I'm feeling because everyone except Steve leaves my room.
"You should keep drawing," Steve encourages.
"What? You're kidding. Did you not just see all of that?"
"Yes, I saw you expressing your feelings which is a good thing. I'm not sure how you could express strong emotions with just words, drawing helps you to get it out, it gets the ball rolling," Steve explains while rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"I'm really tired, I want to go to bed now," I ask glumly with my head down, wanting this day to be over.
"Ok. Do you want to sleep in your bed tonight or on the couch snuggling?" Steve offers me the choice.
"I want to sleep in bed," I answer still hoping for some time alone.
"Who would you like to stay with you?"
I sigh, but then remember Clint is still here, "Is Clint going home tonight?"
Clint peeks his head around the frame of where my door once stood. "I'm staying here tonight."
I smile, "I want Clint to stay with me."
Clint's grin makes me feel special. "I'll be right back."
Steve stays with me while Clint gets ready. Nat comes in briefly so I can use the bathroom, change into pajamas and brush my teeth. Within a few minutes, I am in bed, holding my teddy bear, leaving enough room for Clint who gets comfy on the edge of my bed before lifting up his arm so I can lie against his chest. Once I settle in, Clint rests his arm on my shoulder. With his other hand he clears a few wayward strands of hair from my face then cradles my head while placing gentle kisses on my forehead. "Goodnight baby girl, I love you."
"Goodnight." I close my eyes and quickly fall asleep, feeling loved.
A/N
Question: Is my writing too technical with the desensitization trials? Let me know what you think so. Thanks all.
