And Start Over ||SamxBucky||

(chapter 2 Blood)

It was dark out, his apartment was dark except for the TV playing that had people playing football on it in front of bucky as he layed on the floor. A tane colored blanket covered his body. His pillow was a plain white color, nothing epic. His body was curled up into a ball, his knees almost up to his chest as his eyebrows would sometimes knit together or he fingers would twitch randomly, or he would start making strange noises, but that was because right now at the very moment bucky Barnes was having a nightmare. Tonight he hoped that he wouldn't have a nightmare, and he would just get some good night sleep but man was he fucked. It was four o'clock in the morning, the moon shined bright outside, it peeked through the curtains right above Bucky's head. It shined down onto the wooden floor and onto the wall. Bucky was not a morning person, he was grumpy or something even irritated when waking up. It was worse when it was early, but anymore that seemed like his normal routine, waking up early as hell.

His metal hand clenched hard, but he was holding onto something. Right now his heart was beating out of his chest like crazy, this nightmare was really bad. "Hmm" bucky whimpered. His chest rose and fell fast, slowly getting quicker. He's woken up with his breathing quick before, even having panic attack's while waking up. It didn't happen a lot, but when it did it was horrible. He squeezed harder to whatever he was holding onto. He kicked his leg out from under the covers all of a sudden, making a light thump on the wooden floor. He always hoped that in the middle of the night, no one would come to his flat and tell him to be more 'quiet' since he lived in an apartment with people living above him and below him. It was really hard for him not to scream when waking up from a nightmare. "no~" bucky said, just barely a whisper. He said it so silently that if someone that even sat next to him wouldn't even hear. He knew that he needed to do something about these nightmares that would happen every night. He knew he needed help, but how? People loved him, even the people he would sometimes talk to on the street or at the bar he would go to sometimes, but something told him otherwise. His thoughts screamed at him, telling him that no one cared for him, no one cared if he died tomorrow. He understood though, he really did, he did bad things, horrible thing's that are cringy to even think about. "Stop, plea-" bucky said while pleading, but was cut off by his breath getting caught in his throat. He then shot up from where he was laying. "AHHH!" He looked around, so quickly like he was making sure he was in his flat. He continued to look around.

His body shook like if a little kid thought they saw a monster in their closet. He was trembling so bad that it actually broke you're heart to watch. It was no surprise though that he woke up trembling and screaming himself awake, it happened every night. The last time bucky got a decent goodnight sleep was about six months ago, and that day he actually woke up around eight. He felt pretty good that day, his body was well energized, but of course his arm didn't feel the best, it felt like a saw tried to saw his arm off, well, that's what it actually looked like. It was scary to look at, but now it was ten times worse. Scars after scars, cuts after cuts littered his arm. But right at this moment his arm was killing him, it was throbbing like something squeezed it. He looked down at his arm, and was met with finger print bruises on his arm, but it wasn't all that he did, he accidentally reopened one of the cuts he did just two days ago. Blood was dripping down his flesh arm and onto the wooden floor. 'Drip.....drip.....drip' the pace wasn't fast, but he still needed to do something about it.

His breathing was still quick, but watching the blood trickle down his arm and onto the floor made his mind almost blank for a moment. It was satisfying to him, like he had control over himself. He felt that he deserves the pain, the cuts littering his arm. He watched it for a few more seconds before looking around for a moment. The moonlight shined onto the floor and he almost instantly knew that it was probably pretty damn late. He sighed to himself, sick of waking up every night, in the middle of the night and making himself stay awake because of his nightmares he has. He's scared, he's so scared to go back to sleep so he makes himself stay up until he can't anymore. He stood up from where he was currently laying and stood on his feet. His joints popping in the process. He felt the blood rush to his head and felt his head soon do waves of pain. This was normal though, but right now it was really bad, probably because his arm was bleeding. He groaned and put his metal hand to his head, the metal touching his head sent shivers down his spine.