Chapter Eight

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Many years ago

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Many years ago.

The smell of the trash scattered around the atrociously lit cavern mixed in thoroughly with that of searing human flesh. Several men hid among the corners of the room as they threw their head back in amusement. Their attire consisted of a middle eastern military uniform and a unique cover on their face. It was almost a balaclava of some sort, except that there were only holes for their eyes and not their lips. Their gaze lacked soul and empathy and it was bitter to the core.

In the middle of the room laid a dingy metal stretcher, it's wheels were rusted from years of combined usage and uncleanliness. Attached to its sides were two adaptable arm rests that had accommodating worn out straps for the arms and legs.

His screams were deafening as it surpassed the screeching of the grinding of his bones and the deafening motor of the chainsaw.

The smell was pungent and strong in his nostrils, making him visibly gag. The pain he felt was blinding to the point where if he closed his eyes tight enough, he hardly felt anything at all. With a feeling of consternation, he would open them back up quickly, realizing that the reason for that was that he was beginning to pass out from the pain.

The only reason he hardly felt it as torturous anymore was because of the adrenaline- it had begun to mask the unendurable pain.

With a whimper and a soft cry for help, his legs became noodle-like and his gut burned with presentiment. The howling of the men's voices commanding orders around him in a language he couldn't understand (and the distant shots being fired from would could only be an AK-47) echoed in his brain along with the chainsaw.  He knew they were sounds he would not forget for years to come.

As if the adrenaline dissipated, he feels that sudden pain that no man or woman should ever feel in their life.

They were cutting off his arm as he laid wide awake. They didn't even bother killing him first or make him pass out in a way. No, they wanted him to feel, hear, and smell everything. It couldn't get anymore morbid than that.

Below the stretcher on the ground was a white rag drenched in red.

It was beginning to turn a rough shade of black the more the blood dripped from his arm onto it.

His gaze travels down to his poor limb, god how he didn't want to look, but of course, he had to.

When he saw what they were doing to him, he felt like his stomach was on fire and his eyes were drenched in acid. His bone was visible to his eye and his flesh had been shredded up like cat meat. There were parts of his tendons that still hung on. They were part of his body that he wasn't ever meant to see. That pungent smell returns again along with the pain and the sound of the electric saw. This time it was applied almost directly to his humerus.

A sob mixed with a strong gag, that gets stuck in his throat, racks through his body. He cries out loud for help as his legs start to thrash and hot tears run down his pretty face.

Take It Back - Bucky Barnes x OCWhere stories live. Discover now