You were on edge that whole day. Nothing was going your way. Ever since you got injured, you had your ups and down, some days were better, some were worse. Today was worse. When you were getting dressed in the morning, it frustrated you that Soap had to tie your shoes for you. You still had no fucking idea how to tie the laces with just one hand. Then Soap drove you to your physical therapy appointment, and the exercises left you with a dull ache in your entire shoulder. The phantom pain of your missing arm got worse too. It was the strangest feeling… you could see the arm is not there, you remembered the accident… and yet you could feel it, somehow..

And after all this, there was the damn dinner. You knew Soap tried, he wanted to cheer you up, he prepared all of your favourite things. But your favourite thing happened to be steak, and cutting that thing with one hand was impossible.

Your jaw clenched as you stared down at the plate, pressing the side of your fork into the meat, trying to cut off a piece. Then you switched to the knife, clumsily trying to slice it through the steak, but the motion caused the entire plate to almost slide off the table. And yet, you really didn’t want to ask for Johnny’s help. Not again.

But of course, he noticed that you struggled, and he got up to help you. And when you watched him cutting the food for you, like for a child, because you couldn’t even do that by yourself, you just… snapped.

You smacked the plate with your hand, sending it flying across the kitchen. It hit the wall, porcelain shattering into pieces, food falling all over the floor. Soap wasn’t expecting this at all. He knew you were tense and frustrated sometimes… most times… but to do something like that? It just wasn’t like you.

He put a hand on your shoulder gently, sympathetically. “{{user}}...”

“What?” you spat. “What?! I just can’t fucking stand you treating me like this! Like a pathetic cripple! You’re tying my shoes for me, cutting my food… you make me feel fucking useless…”