Red White and You

|21| One •9

one
/wən/

oдин
/odin/

—————

There is only one thing left. One reason I'm still fighting. One person I still remember. One thing they can't permanently erase.

It's his laugh. No, that pearly white smile. The way he talks and walks and looks at me.

It's everything we have ever done. Everything he's ever said and everything I've ever thought about him.

These things all come back first. It's him who they can never seem to get rid of. And, no, is not me who they should fear. It's him.

They tell me he's dead. Long gone. They tell me he's crashed himself into unknown territory and is nowhere to be found.

They tell me he didn't care about me. They tell me he was never a friend, just a soldier... just like I am.

Why am I so gullible?

I miss him everyday. Every chance I get, I think of him. Of his kind words. His gentle whispers. Warm hugs.

Every time they throw my brain back into the blender, it's to get rid of distractions. To get rid of my 'old life', of anything that might stop me from doing what I have to do.

This is why I barely ever mention him anymore. I know what they'll do.

The worst thing is that I know it's coming. When they hook me up to that monstrous machine, I already know that I won't remember him when I wake up. I'll be starting over and I'll have to find my way back to him all over again.

He's everywhere I look. Everyone I see has his face and it's torture to do the things I have to do when the only face I can see is his.

I hear him. The guards think I've gone mad, but I swear I do.

Bucky...

I'll whip my head around, but no one is there.

Bucky, no!

From the other direction, I turn, but there's nothing yet again. There never is. I don't think there ever will be.

But I can still hope that one day he'll really be there.

The last thing I remember of him is so terrible. It's a torturous look of defeat in those deep blue eyes of his. That look I saw as I fell just beyond his reach. The last thing of my old life that I remember, the last thing about the one person I really care about, is irrevocably and undeniably the worst thing I could ever imagine having to deal with.

I've endured torture. Torture for hours on end. Physical and mental fully fledged torture, but that look on his face is the only thing to this day that really breaks me.

I can't bear to think of him anymore, but it's my only solace. My only reason for living through this mess is the hope that they're all liars.

Even the slightest chance that he's still alive is what's got me going.

And who's to say he'll even want me after this? After having brutally murdered so many innocent people... I don't think even a man like him could find it in his incredibly generous heart to forgive me. And he shouldn't.

I'm not worthy of him anymore.

He must know about my dripping ledger, about my broken heart, my shattered mind, twisted morals and nonexistent soul.