𝘖𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 & 𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 || 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘭

44. Caught in lies - P2

TW: Blood, s-h, mental disorders. If you are triggered or sensitive to any of this, please don't read this part. I don't want to upset anybody!

Existence had been tough recently. My mind was threatening to implode with every passing hour. Just being left with my own thoughts for a short amount of time was slowly making me go insane. Unluckily for me, I got a lot of alone time sat in a cell. The Raft was incredibly secure - I had no chance of escape. The same routine was repeated every god damned day. So much the same I'd lost track of how long I'd been there. Days? Weeks? Months?

I'd wake up at the same time every morning; 7am. A guard would take me to wash. I'd always turn the water to cold - a torturous reminder of the victim I'd failed to kill. When I was finished and dressed, I - my hair still wet - would have blood drawn. This was to make sure I was getting the right amount of nutrients. Then, I'd get a small breakfast of enough food to sustain me until lunch. At 8am, I had a two hour long therapy session with an unbearable therapist. From 10am-12:30pm, I'd be in my cell alone. At 12:30pm, I was given lunch, then left alone again until 8pm when I was given my last meal. At 8:30pm, I was sedated and restrained to the bed.

After that, the same routine.

It was 12:36pm that day. I was sat cross legged on the floor of my cell, my sleeves rolled up and blood trickling down my arms. I gripped the knife in my dominant left hand, leaving the abandoned meal a few meters from me. The door of the cell beeped loudly and harshly as three guards ran in. As the first one approached, I sunk the knife into his leg. He cried out in pain and I got to my feet quickly. Blood still ran down my arms without slowing. I backed into to the back wall of the cell, but I was tazed. I cried out in pain before dropping the knife and falling to the floor.

"Get Robertson to the infirmary and get someone to take the girl!" I heard one of the other guards yell.

I was dipping in and out of consciousness with every passing moment. I felt a needle slide into my neck and everything went dark.

When I awoke, the world spun around me for a moment. I tried to sit up, but my wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed. My arms had stitches in and they were stinging.

"You couldn't just go to jail. You had to cause shit," I heard a smug voice.

Lifting my head, I saw James Barnes sat on a chair not far from my bed.

"Fuck off," I growled.

He chuckled.

"No 'nice to see you'?"

I scoffed.

"You put me here. Why should I?"

"Because I'm the only person who doesn't hate your guts," James replied.

I glared at him.

"Yes you do."

"No I don't Y/n. Everyone else wants you to spend the rest of your days rotting in that cell. Clearly you can't cope. You've almost killed yourself and a guard after only a week."

I felt my face drain of any colour. I'd only been at The Raft for a week?

"How long have I been here James?" I asked weakly.

He stood up and came over to me. He put his metal arm towards me and I yanked my head out of the way. James grabbed my chin and looked into my eyes, his eyes narrowed.

"You genuinely can't figure out how long you've been here?" he asked, scrutinizing me.

I didn't reply until he let go of me.

"No."

Sighing, James replied, "A week and three days."

"No..." I whispered, unable to believe it. "It feels like forever..."

"That's what being a serial killer does to you," James replied. "What did the psychiatrist say?"

Only then did I notice that the super soldier was letting me free from the restraints. I sat up and replied, "That I'm mentally unstable."

I laughed in a delirious way.

"But I figured that already."

I stood up and stood beside the bed, running my index finger over the stitches. The pain that I felt was... refreshing. I needed to feel something other than drowning anger and sadness that I could not show to the world. Pain was the furthest I was going to get from them.

"I want to help you," James stated.

I looked at him, confusion on my face.

"But first I need to know exactly what you feel," he continued, standing a couple of feet away from me.

My confused look turned into the stoic one I'd presented to the world for so long.

"And get rid of that," he finished, referring to my stoic expression.

"No you don't."

"Y/n..." he trailed off, before continuing.

Barnes' voice suddenly became harsh and pressing as he told me, "You're a ticking time bomb. You don't know why you're alive, or what your purpose is. You're haunted by the voices of the dead."

I felt my feelings desperately to surface as he spoke so viciously. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to make me show emotion to him.

"You'll never know the psychopath you are. You'll never realise how god damn corrupted your ugly mind is Y/n."

I stood, glaring at him, trying to fight against the urge to lash out at him. His method was working, but I couldn't let him know that.

"You have trust issues, a clawing desperation to kill. A psychopathic want for blood. You feel regret afterwards but-"

I yelled out, running towards the man and trying to punch him.

"Monster. Demon. Savage. Evil!"

With each word that came out of his mouth I attacked him with growing fury and strength. He grabbed my wrists as my punches eventually began to do damage.

"You're a monster Y/n."

I tried to pull myself from his vice like grip, screaming and trying to hurt him.

"You're threatening to implode, and when you do..."

I rammed my small body into James'. He kept a hold of my wrists in one arm and wrapped his human arm around my back, holding me.

"Shut up!" I screamed. "I'm not!"

"When you implode, it won't be pretty and the world will be glad to be rid of such a person!" James finished.

This last comment tipped me over the edge. I used all the energy I had to fight against him, but it was no use. The super soldier dragged me to the wall and pinned me against it - me kicking and fighting - until I tired.

When I eventually did, I slid down the wall to the floor, my heart beating, feeling like it was about to burst out of my body. The super soldier crouched down in front of me, looking at me with concern and relief.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

I sighed and nodded slowly. It did feel better.