The Mimic

120

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. There was still no sign of freedom for y/n.

Every day was worse than the last. The same suffocating white walls, the same plain food, the same routine. It felt like torture. Y/n's nightmares had only been getting more and more distressing. They had been so horrifying that y/n refused to let Bruce turn the lights off in the cell. She couldn't handle it. The darkness and emptiness was terrifying - especially with the man in the suit's voice becoming more and more realistic in her head. At least with the lights on she could be reassured that there wasn't anyone lurking in the room with her.

The first few days inside the cell were full of screaming, shouting, and crying. Y/n tried with all of her energy to get out of the cell. But of course it hadn't worked. Everything in the room, including her clothes, was covered in a sort of solution that was resistant to any and all powers. The nothing that she could do. Blasting and punching the walls didn't even leave a mark on the pristine walls, but it had definitely left some marks on her knuckles. Y/n screamed until she lost her voice, she refused to eat, she refused to do anything, but none of it worked. Nobody entered the cell, and nobody left.  

She did eventually cave in to it all, but it was only because she had no other choice. Being alone had completely broken her. Y/n had no interaction with the outside world. Hell, she didn't even have any windows to let in natural light. The only person she could talk to was Bruce, and he only interacted when he had tests to run. There was nobody to joke around with, nobody to vent to, and nobody to distract her from the permanent nightmare in her mind. It was strictly professional.

Sleep felt almost non-existent. Every single time she closed her eyes, she'd see another horrible memory. There was no escape to any of it. Y/n was in a constant state of exhaustion, almost to the point where she was beginning to hallucinate. She knew that if she slept it'd all be solved, but that was too terrifying. She couldn't deal with the nightmares anymore. 

If she had Bucky, she'd be able to sleep. He was always the one to help her through the nightmares, and she was always there for his. But he wasn't there. He wasn't there to hold her and tell her that everything was okay. God, y/n didn't even know if she could remember how he smelt anymore. It was an odd thing to think about, but she was used to being around him twenty-four-seven. Bucky was home to her, so the idea that she was forgetting little things like that was heart breaking.

Y/n was currently sat in one of the corners of the cell, her back pressed up against the wall as she stared blankly at the ground. Her legs were outstretched in a casual manner, but the bandages around her ankles made it obvious that she'd hurt herself trying to escape. Kicking a wall as hard as possible wasn't the best idea, but y/n was desperate and delusional. The blank look in her eyes was similar to when she had been sedated, but this time there weren't any drugs involved. Y/n was simply stuck in her head, too deep into the horrors of her mind. An empty shell of a person. Being in the cell had destroyed her.

It was y/n's birthday. But she had no clue. Inside that cell, there was no knowing what time of day it was. Every meal was the same, and now that Bruce didn't turn off the lights, there was no difference between day and night. It was all a constant torture. 

But, Bruce knew that it was y/n's birthday. Usually he'd keep it professional and just ignore it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that when it came to y/n. She was completely broken. She barely even spoke. But, it wasn't out of protest, her mind had almost regressed to being back in Hydra. All of the trauma had been forced back up to the surface, and she couldn't handle it. So Bruce had decided to take a risk, and actually give y/n something for her birthday. 

You see, Bucky had been writing letters to y/n. Every week a new letter would get delivered. Of course they never reached y/n, any type of communication with the outside wasn't allowed. Every letter would go through a rigorous process to ensure that there weren't any secret codes or plans to break her out. But out of the many that had been sent, Bruce decided on one. He didn't really understand it, but he knew that y/n would.

Her evening meal and medication arrived as normal, with y/n being plunged into the darkness to allow the meal to be set into the cell without her realising where the door was. It was the same food and same tray every single time. But, it wasn't like she had anything else to do. If eating could distract her from her thoughts for a few minutes, she'd take it. 

Y/n let out a slight breath as she pushed herself up and off of the ground, her whole body aching from being sat in the same position for hours. She blinked hard in attempt to eliminate all of the dark spots in her vision, but it didn't work. It never worked. Her eyes were too tired. The silence was deafening as she walked toward the tray, bending down with a sigh to pick it up and take it over to her bed. 

The food looked as bland and as disgusting as always. It definitely wasn't suitable for human consumption. The first few times she ate the food, her body threw it back up in a matter of minutes. It was horrible. Even Bucky and Wanda's sand cake would've tasted better.

However, as y/n picked up the tray, something stuck to the bottom of it fell to the ground. A piece of paper. Y/n frowned, setting the tray back down on the ground so she could get a closer look. Upon further inspection, it was an envelope. Curiosity begun to appear in her eyes as she reached out to flip the envelope over, unsure of whether this was actually meant for her or not. But, as soon as she read who it was addressed to, her whole face lit up. 

'Darlene'.