sebastian stan imagines [ completed ]

Bucky x OC - The Shadow of Winter (Part 3) (Marvel)

A/n
So folks, this is part 3!
Yay!
Oh just to say, that this story is based on a dream I had.
I hope that you liked it, so here is the final part of The Shadow of Winter.
~Hope
(November 2015)
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Contains Strong Violence and References to Torture

It has been a year since I last saw Bucky. 12 months since I gave myself to HYDRA. 52 weeks since I last had freedom. 365 days since I last had hope.

When they got me, HYDRA decided not to wipe me straight away but to punish me for running away instead. Everyday is the same: I wake up to a kick in the gut, I eat porridge while I get punched in the face, I relax with a beating, I eat lunch being threatened and screamed at in foreign tongues such as Russian and German, then I exercise to being dowsed in ice cold water electrocuted, dinner with pain as they beat me with a multitude of weapons, an evening game with agony as the torture me for information that I possibly can't have, then I go to bed, racked with agonising wounds and dread of tomorrow and the pain that will follow. I go to sleep every night thinking him. Did he get to Steve and Sam? Is he dead? Has he fallen in love?

After all that HYDRA have done to me, I think at I'm crazy. My mind is in a constant state of fear, agony and I can't process a simple thought without my brain feeling like it's going to implode. Ever thought is a mixture of many glimpses to the past. It's like a soup of nothing but clippings from newspapers: you get the basic gist of what is going on but you still don't understand.

I look around my cell in the minutes that I have left before they come in again. It is disgusting. It's once sterile white walls are now splattered with blood, my blood, and dirt and other grime. Luckily they give me a chamber pot, otherwise that would be there as well. I'm chained to the wall like a misbehaving mongrel. Wrists raw from my shackles and oozing with blood, pus and other bodily liquids. I have no bed, just a patch of the concrete floor that is farthest away from the door. I'm dressed in an ripped, blood stained black pants and a dirt covered white tank top at faded from white long ago. They shaved my hair when I got here, but my hair has started to grow back, it's greasy split ends now by my ears. Oh how I loved my hair, it's auburn curls that settled contently on my shoulders. Gone. Installed on one of the cell's walls is a mirror. My guess is that it's a one way window, and to show the captives how feeble and weak they look. Scrap that. How feeble and weak the are. It works with me. I used to look at my reflection with pride. I was happy with my appearance, my hazel eyes bright with humour and life; full peach lips; pink dusted cheeks; largish nose, but I didn't mind. My new look is gaunt, ghostly pale; dull mud eyes with a constant state of agony and pain radiating of them; cracked, bleeding lips; severely broken nose; permanent bruises surrounding my eyes like a severe case of panda eyes; chipped teeth. I look like a lunatic. I act like a lunatic. I guess that I am a lunatic.

"Guten tag Shadow. Reminiscing about little Vinter are ve?" Electro laughs.

I don't know his name so I call him Electro. You can guess what he specialises in. That's right. Electrocution.

I stay mute. I never speak anymore. The only noise that passes my lips are the raw wail of brain fuzzing agony. Electro chuckles. "Okay zhen. Letz get started shall ve". He pulls out a baton. Not any baton but a shock one. It vibrates as the volts of energy soar through it. A white light crackles at the end of it. I try to shrink back further but the chains keep me from moving. "Hahahaha, are you trying to get avay?" He snarls before slamming the electrified metal onto my body. I let out a animalistic roar and my body starts to convulse. He applies more pressure and watts and guffaws like a demoniacal madman. Oh wait- he is.

He lifts it up and goes to bring it down again, when a bullet passes through his forehead and hits the wall behind me. He falls to the floor, a pool of blood and brain matter collect around his head. I can't take my eyes of the lake of Crimson before me, soaking my garments with it. An soothing American accent hits my ear like velvet.