In My Head • Bucky Barnes

Chapter 15

The art is not mine, I found it on Pinterest. I just thought it would suit Steve's style of art and it's an absolutely beautiful drawing :))

TW: Panic attack and acts that allude to selfh@rm.

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The kids played a couple more rounds as I prepared dinner. Bucky looked as if he wanted to help but every time he reached for the stove his hand twitched and he drew back. It hurt me knowing Bucky was constantly fighting Hydra in the confines of his mind, that it prevented him from performing everyday tasks.

Using the supplies from Bucky's apartment, I cooked up a huge pasta dish large enough to feed twelve. What can I say with two super Soldiers, a mutant and a spider child with an abnormal metabolism we need triple the food. Plus I want to make sure Belle is actually fed, no doubt they were half starved to death.

Much to my enjoyment Belle devoured her food before anyone else had the chance to touch theirs. Once finished she sat in silence staring at her hands, not daring to interject in any of our conversations.

Bucky leant over to whisper in her ear. I couldn't quite hear what was exchanged but Belle nodded and left the room.

"Back at the base you were punished for speaking out of turn. Especially at meals." Bucky stared mournfully, pushing around the pasta with his fork.

"That's awful." Peter mumbled to himself dropping his fork. Bucky flinched slightly, quickly covering it up by scratching the back of his neck.

"That's hydra."

"I'm just glad you don't have to go through that again." Peter stated resuming his meal, although I could tell his appetite had worn thin. I would be lying if I said mine hadn't as well. Just thinking about the crap they had to go through made me sick to my stomach.

"Me too kid." Bucky muttered. He excused himself from the table, mumbling something about talking to Belle. I could do nothing but watch him leave.

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I tried to convince myself it wasn't real. My nightmares are becoming more and more realistic and I am scared that one day they won't just be dreams anymore.

I had woken up in a cold sweat choking on tears I didn't even know I had shed. I contemplated waking Bucky up, but I don't want him to get mad. It's three in the morning and I know he was absolutely exhausted. Instead I picked up his sweater, slipping it over my pyjamas, inhaling his scent.

This seems to be the only comfort I have left now. Nothing else is working. Back at the base I could switch off and barcade myself from the pain. I don't know why it's not working. I need to stop feeling but I can't.

My sobs become more violent, catching the oxygen before it can reach my lungs. My hands find their way into my hair and begin to pull.

'I control my pain. I chose what I can and can't feel.'

My grip tightens; Nails digging into my scalp. Any second they will draw blood but I can't stop.

You're being pathetic.

I know.

Bucky will be disappointed in you.

He is.

You deserve this.

I need air.

The windows have been locked, most likely a precaution Wade took when he first moved in. I stumbled to the door somehow managing to stay silent despite my struggle for breath.