𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒

Part 14- nightmares

You grunt in discomfort as you try to pull your body up with what little strength you have left.

Your hands are tightly tied together above your head as you hang down lifeless in a dimly lit room. The chains binding your wrists together rubs against your skin like sandpaper, red marks surely visible.

Your feet stretch out onto the hard concrete, the tips of your toes barely scraping the floor as you try to hold yourself up by taking some of the restraint off of your bounded wrists.

You grunt out a small single puff of air, mentally kicking yourself in the arse for being in this position in the first place.

"Y/L/N!" a voice booms as two muscular men stand in the now open doorway, their faces concealed.

Squinting your eyes from the bright flood of light, you look up at the men, one man of a more leaner, athletic build is standing in the centre, slightly forward than the other. The other man is much more muscular and stood further back.

As they both enter the room it dawns on you how well and truly fucked you are. You should know better to talk back to Rumlow, especially when the General is out of town, meaning he is in charge.

You breathe heavily as he and the winter soldier come closer to you, "how have you been?" he asks sarcastically with a grim smirk on his face.

You remain silent, narrowing your eyes at him. His smile fades as he looks over to the winter soldier, nodding his head in your direction.

Before you have a chance to process what is happening, a hard metal fist clashes into your stomach, in your attempted efforts to double over, the restricting chain rattles above your head as your breathing quickens due to your pain.

Rumlow chuckles, only angering you more, "you should know better than to talk back to superiors, you know your actions always come with consequences" his smile is disgustingly proud as he turns around, "all yours soldier, remember what we discussed" and with that he leaves, leaving you and the winter soldier alone in the cold, darkened room.

You look over to him through your lashes, panting heavily as he moves to stand in front of your already aching body, a soulless expression staring back at you.

"Well, got to admit" you struggle under the chains as you fight to speak, "this is much better than my usual alarm" you speak in a smug tone, flashing a slight smile before the same metal hand slaps into the side of your cheek.

Your head flings to the side with such force you're surprised you don't get whiplash, you wince as a cool metallic taste forms in your mouth, blood, already.

"That all you got?" you raise your brow, taunting him. You know this will likely incite more pain, however pain is guaranteed either way, you may as well go through it with a sense of humour.

Being tortured by the winter soldier is its own punishment in its self, aside from the astonishing amount of pain he can inflict if he wants to.

Usually you would talk back to whoever is delivering the beatings, taunting them, riling them up. Of course this has a history of only leading to more pain on your side, but seeing how worked up these so called professionals would get is its own amusement.

However, this man is different, you know why of course, this isn't really a man, more of a body with its subconscious locked away.

"Rumlow must really like me to get a special visit from you, ah-" your sentence is cut of by a hard ball of metal meeting your jaw, and then again slightly upwards across the bridge of your nose.

You look back at him nervously as he takes out his knife. His eyes never meet yours, instead he almost takes pride in what he is doing, the precision he takes. You gulp down a hard ball of nothing, a pit quickly growing in your stomach as you watch the soldier slowly bring the sharp, silver blade upwards.