Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Chapter Thirty-Five

I think it's been close to a year since I've been sentenced to live out my days in the Raft. Although I don't know for sure, I've lost track. The days and nights blend into each other but I've stopped trying to keep track. In the end it doesn't matter, I'm here for the rest of my life. It doesn't matter if I've been here six months or three years. I'm going to die in here.

About a month or so ago the woman across from me was finally able to be free of this world. She fashioned her uniform into a tool and waited for the guards to switch shifts. I saw her prepare for it, I could tell she had been planning it for a while. I watched her tie knots of all sorts, trying to see which would hold the best. I could've said something, but I chose not to. What would be the point? She would just try again.

I've dropped a considerable amount of weight since being here. My bones protrude in areas that were once plump. But I don't care enough to do anything about it. Once again, what would be the point? If I die now, that means I won't have to suffer in here any longer. I've already lost everything worth living for. There's only one reason I haven't tried to follow the woman's footsteps. But I figure if I go from natural causes, it would be easier for him to accept it.

I stare dead ahead at the blank wall in front of me and listen to the same television program that plays every single day. I've had it memorized for a while now and it almost drives me mad. I close my eyes and say a silent prayer, asking to be taken in my sleep. I've never been lucky enough to have this prayer answered, but it's the one thing I keep hope for.

As I give into the unconsciousness the same scenario plays in my head. I see the silhouette with red eyes staring into my soul, she utters the same word like a ghostly whisper throughout my brain. It's probably just the psychosis at this point.

Another week passes.

Another week passes.

Another week passes.

I lay in the position I'm always in and stare at the wall. I pull my arms into my shirt and hug them close to me for warmth, though it's not much help. I hear a noise coming from one of the other cells and I pop my arms back through my shirt and sit up. I look out and see the newest arrival banging on the glass.

The poor man still has ambition. That'll soon fade. I watch as he bangs on the glass and yells for a guard. The man proclaims his innocence every single day. I don't know what he hopes to achieve by doing this, it's not like anyone ever gets out of here alive.

The guard hits the glass with his nightstick and tells the man to shut up and go back to his bed. The guards have no empathy for anyone in here. The man continues to yell at the guard, making threats against his life. I sigh, knowing what's next.

The guard opens the inmate's door and keeps his nightstick at his side. Before the man can do anything the guard beats him down and lands a few solid hits to the man's ribs. The man crumples up on the floor in pain as the guard exits the cell.

"Anyone else have anything to say?" He calls out the rest of us prisoners. As usual, I keep my mouth shut. Truth be told, I can't remember the last time I spoke. It's hard to remember what my voice even sounds like.

But there's no reason to speak. The guards here are very apt to take any sort of speech as a threat against them, and they're not afraid to use force. Even talking to the person in the next cell is frowned upon. I guess they think we're going to try and formulate an escape plan. We're in the middle of a body of water, it's highly unlikely. I think the guards use that as an excuse to keep us quiet. It didn't take me long to understand the guards. They're very similar to Hydra, but I would argue that they're worse, more cruel.

At least in Hydra I was able to socialize and speak. I was able to do basic human things. Here I'm diminished to something less than human. I'm sure the bugs in this place get treated with more dignity and respect than the prisoners do.