Widow's Soul

Widow’s Soul

By: J. Dill

1

The web of the black widow is chaos. They often weave them into messy, tangled traps. Those I weaved were no different. Perhaps I didn’t create all of the webs myself. No, in fact, most of them were weaved for me, and without my consent. But at some point, I had chosen to keep the chaos spinning, not realizing that I was the fly trapped inside.

Still, I learned some things in my brainwashed web. In fact, if anyone knows the weaknesses of the human body, it’s me. I spent my whole life learning them, pushing every pressure button with perfect precision. Searching for cracks in every foundation is what I was trained to do.

It was also weakness that perverted my story. Like too many before me, I was reduced to “Ninja Barbie,” built more for ogling eyes rather than the resilience, intelligence and strength I was actually born for. In death, I couldn’t help but wonder why my sacrifice didn’t mean more. I chose to die in order to save all those whom I love. And I would do it again no matter the accolades. Still, why did Tony Stark get a damn parade? Why was his name all over Spider-Man’s Universe? My dear Bruce, in his grief, threw a bench into a lake in my honor. That’s something I guess. But my grief goes deeper than “it’s not fair,” it’s rooted in the “why.” Why weren’t women treated equally to their superhero counterparts? Why were we not grieved as they were?

Despite what you might believe in this moment, this story is not a complaint, it is merely a question, one that I am asking on behalf of all of my female counterparts. Where is the honor in our sacrifices? And we have made billions too many since the existence of this planet. I am merely asking that you learn our names, and honor them as you would our male companions.

I am in fact, still alive. The black widow after all is rooted in survival. And I am going to find her too. After all, we should be friends as our stories were quite similar. Both trained assassins against our will, fighting wars that did not belong to us. Treated as disposable soldiers whose only purpose was the whims of those who stole us. But not here, and not anymore. I know she’s still here too, and our paths were always meant to intersect, even more directly than before. I think that’s the beauty of this place, truth and destiny become clearer than they ever had been on Earth.

And I have a destiny here, one that Thanos never owned despite the will he exercised that called for my sacrifice. But in truth, my sacrifice always belonged to me. I chose, just as Gamora chose despite his will to own her. And now that I am here, I realize there is a sacred redemption that I could seek. But first, there are a few companions I need to find..

So, would you join me? I think you’ll like this story. Plus, it’s just about time for me to wake up.