Sambucky - Relax, Relapse

Chapter 6

TW: Suicide, graphic self harm

He was oddly calm as he held the switch blade in his hand, full intent on covering as mucrh ground as possible and letting his mind fade into darkness. It had gotten so much harder for the man without his coping mechanism, the nightmares all seemed scarier, day to day life seemed to drag on for ages. Bucky was in deep, so lost in addiction that life without it might aswell be more depressing than it was with it. Or at least, thats how Buckys mind saw it.

Sam has trusted him enough to go on a grocery run, a promise of getting Buckys favorite snack if he "behaved", he had joked but Bucky knew what he meant under the joking tone. He was dead serious, telling Bucky not to do exactky what he was doing now.

Tears streamed down his cheeks like Niagra Falls, but he wasnt sobbing. He didnt even feel the pain as he slashed every ince of skin he could willingly injur and still hide, if this failed. Which it woukdnt, he told himself, he would succeed. He wouldn't fail again. Part of him felt bad, leaving Sam behind. But Sam had Torres, he had Sarah and the boys. And all Bucky did was annoy him, piss him off, ect. He didnt see how much love and adoration Sam had for him, not in that moment at least. Sam had been by his side through thick and thin- Bucky new that, he really did. But he was blinded, so desperate to stop the hell of his mind from causing him pain any longer.

So here he sat, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the clean, sharp blade. It was beautiful to him, he flipped it skillfully in his hands just to get a feel for it. The action only reminded him of his past, and got him back on track to his end goal. Ending others suffering by ending his own life. He had only brought pain to this world for so many people, it was only fair to them that he take his own life. The relief they would feel once their familys murder is finally gone from the earth. Bucky let a sob out at that. He couldnt help what he did. "I know. But i did it." He had said to Steve, when the blonde had stated that it wasnt him who killed all those people, and he still believed those words he spoke.

The first slash made his breath hitch, but made his mind clear. Like a sky blue day, no clouds, airplanes, birds. No distractions. Just the pain. He craved it, he found. He lost count at how many slashes his hand, the gorgeous switch blade, had given. Not even a mere memory of it all. All he could remember was the burn, in his thighs, calves, arms, chest, stomach. He thought about just stabbing himself in the chest at some point during the whole ordeal, but he decided against it. He didnt know why. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted it to be slow. He wanted his death to be painful. He wanted to pay for what he had done. This was just as much of a punishment as is was putting him out of his own misery. Two birds with one stone, one might say.

Bucky started feeling woozy, dizzy and disoriented as he lost blood at an alarming rate. His body itched, the serum forcing and speeding the healing process. Bucky only hoped he did enough to actually succeed this time, overpower the serum running through his veins. Give enough damage to be greater than what the serum could handle. A lazy smile made his way onto his face, and if he had the energy, and the blood, he would laugh.

His eyes were falling shut, and he forced them open. He didnt know why he forced them open, he wanted this. His heart raced as ut tried to keep up with the injuries, but at some point it slowed. There wasnt enough blood for it to function. Bucky was pale, colorless as he layed limp in a pool of his own crimson red blood.

As Buckys eyes grew more tired, he heard a door slam shut. Shit. Sams home. Breifly in Buckys mind, as he started to lose his conciousness, he registered how scared he actually was. He was terrifiednto die, and this all felt too real. Right before his eyes closed he could see Sams heart broken, horrified face. Yelling and crying as he found his best friend near dead on the floor. He felt Sam scoop him into his strong arms, all 250 pounds of deadweight. It made him regret everything he had just done.