I don’t remember anything.
I don’t know Steve Rogers.
My mission is to find Captain America.
Over and over again Bucky said these things in his head, trying to make it sound the truth. As he sat in the metal chair, doctors strapped him down at the ankles and wrists. Just for precaution. It was dark, the room was large and there were so many wires. It was almost exactly like the previous one. The only light was a single light bulb hanging off to his right with a string for the switch. The windows were completely blacked out and the doors neglected to let any light in.
“Soldier,”
Bucky refused to move. The last time he had said anything without being asked a question first horrible, painful things were done to him. Hot metals, whips, knives and electrical shocks were given to him whenever he acted out. The scars just contributed to the terrible memories.
“Did you find Captain America?” A man, one of the doctors, came from behind and stood in front of Bucky.
“No,” Bucky replied. He remembered the other doctors, the ones that sent him out on his mission four months ago. The doctors that replaced his arm with a metal one. The men that tortured him for remembering. The men that abused him for not completing his mission.
The second he started to think, his mind began to hurt. Pain ran through his head like it had before, stabbing at his skull. The memory wanted out, it wanted to be remembered. Like a puzzle piece that was just seen, but needed to be found again.
“Do you remember anything? Anything at all?” the doctor asked another question.
“No,” Bucky still pretended to not know. He held the serious, soldier like face he had held so many times before with just replying in single syllable sentences.
The man sighed in frustration; unsatisfied with the first answer he was given. “Alright. Go, now. Don’t come back to this facility until you do find him.”
The other doctors began to unbolt Bucky from the chair, while the man who was talking to him disappeared. When Bucky was released from the horrendous chair, he stood to his feet and began to walk towards the door.
“Soldier,”
Before wrapping his metal hand around the door handle, Bucky turned to the doctor.
Bang!
A single shot from a pistol was fired and hit Bucky in his fleshy, muscular shoulder. On the inside, he was cringing and wincing in pain. For a second he grabbed his shoulder then let go, not letting his guard down.
“Just a little motivation and a reason to find him,” the doctor grinned with an evil, malicious sneer, still pointing the gun at Bucky.
Trying to disguise the pain, Bucky nodded and walked out of the building’s front door. It hurt. God, it hurt. With every memory that came back the more he got his humanity back as well. He started to feel, he started to think clearly. But, the pain was only beginning.
For now, Bucky had only one person he could trust, one person to go to and one person who could truly help him.
Bucky had to go to Steve. And he’d tell him everything.
A/N
Soooo, any guesses as to what is going on??? Probably. But I'll have you wait for more chapters.
Sorry this chapter was late (And shorter than most). I was having serious writer's block this weekend, but managed to get this out okay. I'll try and make the next chapter longer. I kinda have to since Bucky will be telling him everything. (Or will he...? o.0 )
Remember, if you ever want a dedication to promote yourself or your book, I'd be happy to help. Just post it on my wall or PM me!!
Anywho...
Dedication goes to professional_dreamer! <------ This chick right here litterally has one of THE BEST Stucky fanfics I've read. Check it out. It's called Who Am I?
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Don't Forget Me ~Stucky/ Cap. America~
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