Warnings: Dark!Steve, Dark!Bucky, Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, manipulation
I stare at the ceiling. With nothing to entertain my brain but my own thoughts, I swear I see the ceiling begin to swirl. The shadows and the light merging together to make shapes.
In the corner of the room sat Steves art equipment. The canvas and sketchbooks filled with images of me. Some of the images felt unrecognizable to me. They held smiles that I no longer recognized. I haven't smiled like that in months.
As I begin to wonder I hear a door slam downstairs. Voices beginning to rise. One I recognize as Steve, the other I can't place.
While I have heard much of the people in Steve's life, I've never met any of them. I'm not even sure if they know about my existence.
The voices seem to lower, but I can still hear them speaking. The new voice sounds distressed. Like they're crying.
I sit up on my bed, staring at the door as if that would help me hear better. The voice continued to cry but I could hear Steve's footsteps moving swiftly up the stairs and closer to my door.
The door slung open and Steve stood there with a stressed look on his face. I backed my body up until.i was pressed against the headboard.
"Angel," he whispered, slowly walking towards the bed, "I have a favor to ask of you."
"A favor?" I muttered. His head nodded, his bangs falling into his face.
"You see, my friend is downstairs. He's an author."
My heart started beating harder in my chest.
"He's been having trouble with his writing. If he doesn't come out with something in the next three months his publishing company is gonna drop him entirely and cancel his book deal."
"How am I supposed to help? I don't know anyone in publishing." I say, praying he isn't about to suggest what I think he will.
"No, but," he hesitated, taking my hands into his own," but I thought maybe you could inspire him the way you inspire me."
"Stevie, no, no, no," I continuously repeated the word. I stood from the bed, pulling the chain as far as I could in attempts to get away from him. "Stevie please don't do this to me!"
In the many months I'd been here I slowly came to accept my new place in life. The inspiration of S.G. Rogers. It was a couple of weeks ago that it truly settled in. On Christmas.
Steve's present to me was a sweet kitten. It's chocolate brown fur contrasting it's bright blue eyes, I cried tears of joy upon seeing it for the first time.
Now that Steve is a successful artist once more, he was a lot more busy. I didn't see him nearly as much as I used to. It's now at the point he's extended my chain to reach the bathroom and a mini-fridge was now placed in the studio.
Steve thought multiple times about moving me to his room, but eventually decided that would taint his image of me as his muse.
That didn't stop him from taking any love and affection he could possibly pull from me.
"I know, Angel, I know this is scary. I know you were meant for me, but it would be so selfish of me to keep you to myself like I am when he might need you just as much as I do!" He followed my, pushing me against the wall and cupping my cheeks with his large hands. He kissed away each tear as it began to run down my face.
"Stevie, I'm yours! Please don't do this. I don't know him! I was made for you not him!" I sobbed, Steve's thumbs rubbed my cheeks.
"This is something that I have to do." He rested his forehead on mine, placing a soft kiss onto my crying lips. "I'm going to go talk to him. I want you to take a quick breather. Drink some water. We'll be up in a moment."
I could only nod in response knowing that nothing I could say would change his mind. As he left the room I could only pace the floor, wishing for a place to hide.
It felt like I had been waiting an eternity when I finally heard to voices murmuring to each other outside my door.
"Remember the rules." I heard before the doorknob finally turned.
As the door was slowly pushed open my eyes were met with a pair of curious blue ones and dark brown hair that was pulled into a low bun on the base of his neck.
"Its the girl from your paintings." He whispered. "She's real."
"I told you, she's my muse." Steve answered, his eyes boring into my soul. "I'm hoping she can work her magic on you."
"Where'd you find her?" They spoke about me as if I wasn't in the room, and for some reason that terrified me. The way they viewed me as an object and not as my own person.
"A speaking event I had to attend at her college."
The stranger finally pulled his gaze from me, meeting Steve's instead.
"Is she that girl that was all over the news back in August? The missing college student?"
Now that caught my attention.
"The news? We're ny parents on there? Are they okay? Do they still worry about me?" The questions spilled from me with no control. Both men stared at me, one with furrowed brows and the other tense as a board.
"That doesn't matter Angel, you're here now. I'm taking care of you better than they ever could." Steve walked towards me, pulling my chin up so I stared him in the eyes. "No more questions."
I nodded quickly in response, not wanting to anger him any more than I already have.
"Now, this is my friend Bucky. The one I told you about earlier. He's going to be hanging out here sometimes." He turned my face to look at the now named man. Bucky.
"Hi, Bucky." I whispered.
A deep shade of pink grew on his face as he sent a small wave in my direction.
I suddenly became overly conscious of the fact I was only wearing a large shirt and a pair of underwear.
"I'll be here the whole time, Angel." Steve stepped away from me and back into his corner. He sat in his chair and pulled his sketchbook out, eyes glancing back and forth from me to the page.
I looked back to Bucky. I sat down on the foot of the bed as he slowly walked towards me. When finally reaching me he held his hand out in front of him, right in front of me.
I looked at him in confusion before carefully raising my shaky hand and settling it into his firm grip.
"I know Steve just told you but, hi. I'm Bucky." For some reason this action made a small smile grow on my lips.
I told him my name and then slowly pulled my hand from his own. He sat beside me on the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
He spent almost an hour in my company with few words being shared between us. He looked to Steve for permission every time he touched me. I was surprised at the limits at which Steve allowed him. Since the moment this chain was locked around my ankle Steve had been incredibly possessive of me. He reminded me every day that I was made for him and him alone.
Bucky leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips, shocking me. He seperated from me only for a moment before leaning back in for another quick kiss.
He laid me down on the bed, leaning up to whisper in my ear,
"My dear,
You hold so much
Sadness in your eyes,
I can almost touch
The scars of your soul
And cry."
The words brought tears into my eyes. He had seen right through me.
Steve watched us with furrowed brows before Bucky spoke up once more, this time loud enough for Steve to hear, but his gaze never left mine.
"Steve, I think it's time I finally write that poetry book."
Poetry by Alexandra Vasiliu
