Flowers in the Darkest Parts: Bucky Barnes X OC

Old Scars

By the age of 28, I am already broken. Too many bruises, too many scars, too many tears wasted on things that no longer matter. My mind is damaged enough that survival is its only function. It has to be. My emotions have said their goodbyes and are long gone. They are to blame for this. They have rid me of any feeling.

This wasn't their first rodeo and they had perfected their control. They perfected their control of their Super Soldier.

I can't really remember my life before this. I only have snippets of memories that come back to me occasionally. They slip back through the cracks, giving me hints of my life before, only to be ripped away again. They're ripped away again and again, but in the end it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who I was before. The only thing that matters is taking orders to stay alive. Taking orders to avoid punishment from them. From HYDRA.

I stand guard outside the jail chambers. This is my current assignment until they send me elsewhere and it tends to become mindless and redundant. I shift my weight between my legs, wondering how long I've actually been standing here. My mind begins to wander. It wanders to the memories that I was able to keep safe, that these people weren't able to steal from me. To the sliver of joy I can feel buried deep beneath. To when I was young and nothing mattered except finding the best hiding spots, who could climb the highest tree, and who could run the fastest. To when free will and happiness were real.

"Soldier!" A harsh voice shouts, breaking me from my thoughts. Startled, I look over at the HYDRA agent walking his way to me from across the room. "I shouldn't have to give you orders twice. I should never have to repeat myself to you." As he speaks he never breaks eye contact. Those dark eyes are full of hate and as cold as the stone floor I stand on.

I glance around at the ground trying to recall what he said the first time. If he even had said anything. I didn't even hear him enter the room. Shit. My heart starts to race and panic rises in my chest. These people do not like repeating themselves. Especially when giving orders to me.

I really try not to let my mind wander. That's when I get into trouble. That's when the beatings are the worst. I let myself slip today and I already know what's waiting for me as punishment.

I take a step back from the man still approaching me. He's quicker than I anticipate, taking me off guard and shoving his rifle with both hands against my throat and into the wall behind me. My head slams against the wall, sending a wave of pain through my skull. I look at the man nearly inches from my face now. I can easily outpower this man, outsmart him even, but the mental hold they have over me here keeps me submissive. The fear instilled in me is more powerful than any physical force.

I'm smart, I'm fast and I can fight. This is what they trained me to be. This is what they worked so hard to perfect. They turned me into the best Super Soldier they could. I've done my fair share of gathering information for them. Things nobody should ever be allowed to get their hands on.

My specialty is intelligence data retrieval and analysis, but they did train me to fight as well. They were more careful this time since their last attempt at a Super Soldier failed. They focus more on obedience with me, making sure I'll never betray them.

The guard pushes his gun further into my neck. I want to break away from him, but the chokehold these people have on my mind makes me so helpless. The mental games they play, the threats they make, everything is aimed at making sure I never test them with my loyalty. Every thought I have about trying to fight back is beaten out of me. I have tried multiple times to resist and each time I'm taken to a small room, strapped down to a metal chair and tortured. My mind and body turn to mush and I fall back in line.

The guard smiles and steps forward to move his weight into me. His gun is still jabbing into my throat, the cold metal searing my skin. His teeth are a sick shade of yellow and his breath burns my nostrils as he speaks. "Seems like you need a little reminder on how to listen." He lowers his gun off of me and in the same motion throws his opposite hand up to find my throat.