Till the End of the Line

Humanity

The Winter Soldier was a ghost story back in her bunks in the Red Room. A whisper passed between girls who were brave enough to ignore Mothers rules and speak out after curfew. 

He wasn't much of a ghost though. 

Every once in a while, Becca had seen him there, accompanying Karpov, always stoic, always emotionless. 

She'd hated him the moment she'd seen him. 

And now, by some cruel twist of fate, she was now at his mercy. 

"I am going to break you" 

He'd hissed in Russian 

"I am going to take what you think is your humanity and rip it to shreds. You will be made new for the good of HYDRA. Do you understand?"

Becca remembered how she somehow found it in her to make a snarky remark, although she couldn't remember what that comment was now.

All she really remembered the punch to the face it earned her, she still had a tiny scar, right above her left eyebrow. 

No matter how hard the Soldier tried, he could not break her spirit.

He became increasingly frustrated and so the beatings got worse.

He'd force her to run until she collapsed and vomited up what little food she'd been given. 

He'd 'spar' with her, and she always walked away with either a cracked rib, broken nose, and blood everywhere. Sometimes all three 

He'd deprive her of sleep, refuse her water and food, isolate her until she was sure she would go mad.

She did not let it break her. He would not take that one thing she had left. 

 She gradually got better at dodging his punches, at blocking them. 

She'd learned to pace herself so that she didn't throw up every time he made her run. 

She learned to survive off of snow if she was deprived of water. After all, there was an abundance of it, and it was all untainted. 

And as she became better, her hate grew stronger. She kept making quips at him, purposefully getting him angry just to see the slightest be of emotion from him. The punches hurt worse when they landed but to her it was worth it. 

She hated this place; she swore one day she'd get out. 

It had been nine years since she was taken, one year since she met him, and now she was pretty sure she was going to die at twenty-five.

But at least she still had her humanity.