Dawn | Bucky Barnes ✔️

27. Rookie Mistake

"She yearned to spread her wings and fly, but they were bound so tightly that it was physically hurting"

W I D O W S E V E N T E E N
Night time, 63 hours

Here's the thing: Do you ever feel like your holding too much in? Like you can't physically have the verge to get out of bed because your body feels like it can't move but the rest of your body is functioning perfectly fine? The feeling can leave you but then the next day it happens again and you don't know what to do but lay there like a dead corpse staring up at the ceiling with your brain running a hundred miles per hour.

You don't know how to get out of your state so you just lay there, letting all your thoughts collide against one another until your brain has enough and you shut down. So for the rest of the day your basically floating on clouds or walking on eggs shells amongst the people you live with or the people you past on the streets.

I feel lifeless laying here in the supposed comfort of my bed, feeling like I can't control myself. Doesn't the person have the right to feel in control of their body and mind?

My eyes pitch shut as flashbacks of my taunting past fuel me of their torment. When will i ever move on from this suffering? Haven't I been through enough that my own mind is against me?

Natasha says that talking to someone might
help - she only said that because she wants me to open up to her. I will one day but I am not ready. I know she will understand but its the stubbornness inside of me that hates relying on other people to listen to my stupid thoughts even though deep down I just want someone to be there for me without me actually going looking for it.

I feel selfish even thinking that. Me a deadly emotionless assassin is too fucking scared to call out for help but the honest truth is that another part of me doesn't want someone to help me. I've been alone for so long that I'm scared to let someone into my heart and then later abandon me when they find out how actually broken I am and can't deal with that part of me. All of me.

My body shivers even beneath the thick comfy fabric of my bedspread, my hands scrunched up in the sheets my fingers gripping tightly as if I let go I feel like i could fall and won't have anything to bring me back up. My closed eyelids doesn't stop me from darting my eyes side to side as i watch the horrifying scene in front of despairing nightmare.

I feel sweat drip down from my forehead, I could feel my lungs clogging up into a cracked sob as my voice screams out, "I didn't do anything..."
I could hear the pain in my voice, a sound so familiar that I have to go everyday to mask out my emotions so everyone would think I am fine. But i'm not.

I'm like a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I'm lazy yet I'm ambitious. I don't like myself but I also love who I am and what I become. I say that I don't care or I'm fine but I really do and I'm not fine.

I crave attention but reject it when it comes my way when I want to feel love and happiness but I back down from the neglecting thoughts swimming around my mind all the time. I'm a conflicted contradiction. If I can't even figure myself out, there's no way anyone else has.

"Why you doing this to me?" I screamed into this imagination type clone of Dreykov as I imagine the pain inflicted on my small dainty body that I'm labelled as. I could taste the metallic taste in my mouth but in reality its just my salty tears escaping into my mouth.

I could hear a door open with rushed footsteps, bare feet tapping against the ground before I felt hands hauled me down as my hands instinctively reach up to fight the imaginative Dreykov off but once again reality manipulates me that it's actually Natasha's comforting warming voice speak out to me.