The rifle was heavy and a little more than half Virginia's height, in length. Awkwardly holding it, she aimed it at the bear, while trying to get a decent grip and at the same time, be able to shoot. She couldn't hold the rifle steady--then it slipped.
Virginia tightened her hold to keep it from falling, and the rifle fired before she meant to fire it.
It jerked backward, the butt of the weapon slamming painfully into her chest. She was knocked onto the ground. Deafened momentarily by the blast, she felt the gun suddenly hot and burning her hands, but she couldn't drop the firearm like she wanted to; it was stuck to her skin. Or her hands were unable to unclench.
"Virginia!"
She sat up and watched as the bear shuffled away.
"Virginia! What the hell? What happened?!" America reached her, prying the rifle out of her grip. He cursed when he saw her hands. "I told you never to touch that rifle! What were you thinking?"
"There was a bear in the yard," Virginia told him, faintly.
"Oh, Virginia, one shot wouldn't kill a bear. This isn't the right time of year to preserve meat, and I don't think I could dry something that big. Even if I could, neither of us would want to be eating it for months."
He carried her into the house and made her soak her hands in egg whites. She didn't tell him about the rifle hitting her in the chest.
Virginia's hands healed quickly, since America had attended to them immediately, but where the rifle had struck her left a bruise that took weeks to fade. Virginia poked at it in the days afterward, using the pain to remind herself not to do foolish things that would only scare America, instead of help him.
***
There had already been a lot America wouldn't let Virginia do, because of how small she was, and the impulsive stunt she'd pulled seemed to convince him that he was not being protective enough. To remedy this, he barely allowed her in the kitchen, he repeatedly warned her against getting too close to the fireplace, he wouldn't let her go with him to get wood, when he was swinging around an ax. Virginia had to settle for straigtening up rooms, bringing water to the house, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals they kept, so that when America went to take care of these chores, he found them already done.
And although he hugged her every time and said what a helpful child she was being, Virginia felt she was not doing enough.
America seemed depressed.
She had thought it was just more of him being tired. On days America was especially busy, he seemed almost unable to move when he finally stopped working. Then Virginia noticed America went from eating all the time to hardly eating at all. She thought it was from the vomiting--she wouldn't want to eat either, if it was making her throw up!--but there were nights America wouldn't let her sleep in his bed, and then he wouldn't leave his bedroom the next day. Sometimes he'd stay in there for longer than a day, but he couldn't make it past two; even if he didn't want to eat, the baby seemed to be keeping him from outright stopping.
During these days, Virginia was tempted to do things which America ordinarily wouldn't allow. Not wanting to upset him, she resisted.
***
Maybe he was sad that Netherlands hadn't come back?
Virginia did not like sharing America. She resented the people who rarely visited him and even more rarely stayed over, but none of these did she hate with the animosity she felt for the spiky-haired man that America had blown her off for.
That being said...Netherlands was an adult. The most company America had was Virginia, a child. The difference had to count for something, as much as she'd rather not admit.
All is Not As it Seems - 4b
Virginia tightened her hold to keep it from falling, and the rifle fired before she meant to fire it.
It jerked backward, the butt of the weapon slamming painfully into her chest. She was knocked onto the ground. Deafened momentarily by the blast, she felt the gun suddenly hot and burning her hands, but she couldn't drop the firearm like she wanted to; it was stuck to her skin. Or her hands were unable to unclench.
"Virginia!"
She sat up and watched as the bear shuffled away.
"Virginia! What the hell? What happened?!" America reached her, prying the rifle out of her grip. He cursed when he saw her hands. "I told you never to touch that rifle! What were you thinking?"
"There was a bear in the yard," Virginia told him, faintly.
"Oh, Virginia, one shot wouldn't kill a bear. This isn't the right time of year to preserve meat, and I don't think I could dry something that big. Even if I could, neither of us would want to be eating it for months."
He carried her into the house and made her soak her hands in egg whites. She didn't tell him about the rifle hitting her in the chest.
Virginia's hands healed quickly, since America had attended to them immediately, but where the rifle had struck her left a bruise that took weeks to fade. Virginia poked at it in the days afterward, using the pain to remind herself not to do foolish things that would only scare America, instead of help him.
***
There had already been a lot America wouldn't let Virginia do, because of how small she was, and the impulsive stunt she'd pulled seemed to convince him that he was not being protective enough. To remedy this, he barely allowed her in the kitchen, he repeatedly warned her against getting too close to the fireplace, he wouldn't let her go with him to get wood, when he was swinging around an ax. Virginia had to settle for straigtening up rooms, bringing water to the house, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals they kept, so that when America went to take care of these chores, he found them already done.
And although he hugged her every time and said what a helpful child she was being, Virginia felt she was not doing enough.
America seemed depressed.
She had thought it was just more of him being tired. On days America was especially busy, he seemed almost unable to move when he finally stopped working. Then Virginia noticed America went from eating all the time to hardly eating at all. She thought it was from the vomiting--she wouldn't want to eat either, if it was making her throw up!--but there were nights America wouldn't let her sleep in his bed, and then he wouldn't leave his bedroom the next day. Sometimes he'd stay in there for longer than a day, but he couldn't make it past two; even if he didn't want to eat, the baby seemed to be keeping him from outright stopping.
During these days, Virginia was tempted to do things which America ordinarily wouldn't allow. Not wanting to upset him, she resisted.
***
Maybe he was sad that Netherlands hadn't come back?
Virginia did not like sharing America. She resented the people who rarely visited him and even more rarely stayed over, but none of these did she hate with the animosity she felt for the spiky-haired man that America had blown her off for.
That being said...Netherlands was an adult. The most company America had was Virginia, a child. The difference had to count for something, as much as she'd rather not admit.