Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Knew

The only sound that filled your ears were your own screams. Electricity was flowing through you, mainly your brain, and pain was felt everywhere else as your memories started slipping. Your eyes were flashing white and you were slightly losing feeling in your arms as they pulled at the metal restraints holding you to the chair of hell.

Until everything stopped.

Your screams.

The pain.

Your thoughts. What were left anyway, which wasn't much.

It just...stopped.

It all stopped.

Your body hit the floor before you even know you were falling. The ground felt nice on the burning fire you called skin, but you didn't have time to enjoy it because of the opinion your eyes had. They were shutting, letting you feel some type of relief that you would wake up back in the cell you came from, or a cot they let you sleep on when you were injured enough to have it. You just wanted to sleep.

A figure was kneeling next to you before you could, and just the touch of their hand had you whimpering, the gunshot and stab wound now being covered by a hand. A hand that felt too gentle to be one that worked for the psychos.

You could tell it was a he from the broad shoulders and deep voice, but you couldn't make anything else out. Besides his eyes. A light shade of cerulean blues were staring at you with worry, as his hands worked to fix the bleeding happening through the shirt you so desperately wanted to take off.

He was saying words, but you couldn't understand them, nonetheless know what language he was speaking. His mouth was moving at a fast pace, and one of his hands reached up to cup your face. You could tell he was talking more calmer, but what he was saying, you wouldn't know.

Like before, everything just stopped.

Your eyes fought hard enough.

And everything went black.

⍟

He watched as you slept through the medicine given to you, having been told to keep an eye on you until you wake. No one trusted if you were there willingly, but he knew you weren't. If you were, you would have fought him, wouldn't have been in the chair he was told multiple times of by his best friend who had been in the same situation. If you were there willingly, you wouldn't have screamed and fought with them as they dragged you down the hall.

He knew you didn't want this. He just knew.

Your hand slightly twitched from the confines of the cuff placed on your wrist, and he hit the button on the wall before entering the room. By the time he was at the foot of your bed, the team was standing in the room, and your eyes were open.

Bruce cautiously stepped forward, and only stopped when you flinched. Hard. Then and there, Steve knew that you were there against your will. You had been abused, mistreated, and whatever else you had been through while in the place you were probably told was your home. Your safe place. Family.

The second you realized you were somewhere unrecognizable, you pulled your arm up, only to find that you were trapped on the bed. Everyone could see the fear in your eyes, but Steve was the only one who thought against holding you down. You clearly didn't trust them, and this wasn't going to make anything better.