His Soulmate | Bucky Barnes ✔

Chapter Seventeen

AUTHORS NOTE
This chapter goes back to Aunt Mays death and involves descriptions of her body when she was found. If anyone doesn't want to read those parts just skip to further down the chapter xx

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I stared, shocked. Steve and Tony were stood in front of me, their eyes glued to mine as I stared at the table. The wine pooled around my feet, slowly soaking into my shoes, making my feet damp.

Tony hesitantly stepped around the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he held his hands out to me, as if to show he wouldn't hurt me. "Amelie-"

I made a strangled noise, finally ripping my eyes from the pictures on the table to look at Tony. Steve was gathering the pages together, shoving them back into folders and dumping them on the chair next to him.

I shook my head, trying to remove the image that had managed to remove itself from my nightmares, and took a step backwards. When I wasn't met with Bucky's chest, I stuck an arm out. But he wasn't there.

"Amelie we need to explain-"

I cut Steve off, shaking my head as I turned to see an empty doorway behind me, the glass shards of the bottle strewn across the carpeted floor.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off, heading back out of the room, turning my back to the room filled with memories I wanted to forget. I heard a roar further down the corridor, and pain hit my chest as I instantly recognised it as Bucky.

A sharp sting hit my knuckle, my right hand tensing of its own accord. I winced, catching the sight of blood trickle down my closed fist. I jogged after the the sound of Bucky's shout, but the door to the stairwell slammed shut before I could reach it. There was a gaping hole in the wall next to me, smudges of blood on the edge of the plaster.

I stopped, not sure of what to do. Part of me desperately wanted to run after Bucky, though another part wanted to bury myself in my room and cry about mum, the healing wounds of her death being ripped open at the sight of those pictures. A third part wanted to leave, run right out of the doors and not stop until my body physically gave up.

I didn't have too long to debate my choices, as I heard Steve and Tony behind me, shouting for me to go back and talk with them. I jumped and ran up the stairs, following Bucky's route. I heard them give up, and even though their voices faded into nothingness, I continued to run. My legs were screaming, my chest tightening, my vision blurry with unshed tears.

I fell onto the roof, collapsing into a heap as i finally let myself cry, the tears pouring down my face. I'd tried so hard to forget it. To forget the sight of her open, staring eyes. To forget the sight of the fresh blood around her face. To forget the sight of her twisted body, hands curled into fists as she lay, silent.

My screams were as loud as they were that first night. My stomach clenched and churned as I bent in double, my head pounded with the pain that only crying could bring. My nightmares had lessened after I'd been with Bucky. He'd managed to calm me, soothe my thoughts and even though we didn't directly talk about what had happened, he'd helped me through the grieving process. He'd filled my nights with dreams of our future, and stealing moments together, just being happy.

But those pictures were clear, probably due to the expensive cameras the Avengers had available to them. They showed every single detail, every tiny thing that I'd tried so hard to remove from my thoughts.

And then flashes of my dad came back. Him smiling as he danced with me around our living room, helping me with my homework as mum failed to make tea without burning the food, and of Peter and I running in the park with both my parents chasing us.