Captured // A Winter Soldier Story

chapter five // pain

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"Please don't make any sudden moves- you don't know the half of the abuse."
-Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

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reyna's point of view

My feet were limp beneath me, two men lugging me along by my arms. My soldier was somewhere behind me, possibly with a gun to my back.

When the doctor had announced that they were going to break me, I immediately made a run for it. I turned on my heels and sprinted back the way I'd come, only to be promptly grabbed by two security guards who'd been standing beside Thomas. I made the mistake of continuing to fight. They did not hesitate to return my blows.

So now I was being dragged to whatever torture awaited me in worse condition than I started out in. I had yet to see my reflection, but I was positive that my face was several different shades of blue and purple. My lip had even bled for a little while, so I'm sure there was also some blood spattering my chin. It wasn't my best decision to run or to fight. But if I didn't make it out of here alive, I didn't want to die knowing that I hadn't even tried to fight back, no matter how pointless and ineffective my attempts may be.

They dragged me into a large cage. It was empty except for a single stake of wood jutting out of the floor in the middle of the cell, and the guards tied me to it so that I was facing the pole, my back facing them. The rope on my wrists was so tight that I could never hope to escape on my own.

I could only turn my head slightly, and from this angle I couldn't see who had approached me until he was touching my shoulder- it was Bucky.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear, surprising and also terrifying me. I hadn't been expecting him to say anything, and the fact that those were the words he'd chosen to speak made my heart beat rapidly out of fear. The strain in his voice told me that not only was I about to be in an immense amount of pain, but he'd also been through this himself, and it was not something he remembered fondly.

He then moved from the corner of my eye, and I felt my shirt being ripped open from the back, exposing my skin. I knew right then what I was about to face.

A half second later came the whip.

It slashed my skin, drawing blood immediately. The pain was so intense that I nearly blacked out as I screamed, screamed so loud, wondering how on Earth I'd even gotten here, in a random base being whipped by Hydra agents who wanted to ruin me beyond repair. With the crack of the second whip came another scream, and suddenly tears were streaming down my face as my muscles convulsed in pain, hardly able to cope with such extreme physical trauma.

It was the sixth slash when I started hallucinating, and I watched as my mother appeared in front of me, her hand outstretched.

"Come on, darling, It's time to go. I already packed your bag and your father will be home soon. You have to leave," she urged, dissolving just as she reached for me. Another figure took her place - the muscular form of my closest friend, Steve Rogers.

"C'mon, Rey, let's go get something to eat. It's beautiful outside," he suggested softly, an easy smile playing on his lips.

It was during the tenth slash that I blacked out.

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When I came around again, I was incredibly disoriented. My head was pounding and my back was on fire. I couldn't see it, but with the fiery pain I felt, I was sure that someone had started a fire on my ripped and bloodied back and left me there to burn.