Back to Barnes // the winter soldier

20: possession

     There was a demonic voice, no understandable words spoken by it. The sky was black, save for the streaks of lightning every few seconds. I stood in this absence in total silence, wrapping my arms around my chest in shock from the wind. I was dressed in strategically-placed cloths to cover my ill-concealed body as to only keep me pure. My wrists and ankles were bound in chains and every move I made offered them up to the burn of acid from the cuffs.

I felt nothing emotionally. My core was absent of feelings and I just watched things play out for themselves. What I knew for sure was that this was my current hell.

The voice spoke again, words I still couldn't understand, but I still obeyed. With the knife in my hands, I got down and sat on my heels, carving Russian into my thighs and watching the blood pour onto the black ground. My hands didn't shake and I felt no pain, but I did register that what I was doing was wrong. But the voice! It ordered me to listen! I felt a tug on my hand and looked up to see the strings I was attached to crawl up to the sky as they maneuvered my hands to obey.

A sharp yank against my knotted hair pulled me to my feet. A dull pain registered then. I obediently didn't turn to face the one who pulled me up, but I waited for the man, tall and leering and remarkably strong with sandy blonde hair and a fear-inducing smirk. Damon.

An awful sound rang out, hurting my ears with the high frequency and blood-curdling tone. Only a beat after it was cut off by Damon's hand did I realize it came from me. Slowly, my emotions and sense of touch came back. Damon wrapped his hands around my stomach, playing with one of the thin cloths on my lower spine.

My stomach lurched and I grew terrified. He brought his cheek to touch mine, whispering awful things in my ear but nothing I registered. All I focused on was the fear and the pain. Thunder accompanied the lightning in the dark space, blood pooled at my feet, my head swam with anxiety enough to make me throw up. The loss of blood and the shock of sudden pain in my head and legs and spine and throat and stomach caused stars in my vision. I couldn't bear standing, but the strings and Damon hungrily clutching my torso kept me from falling over.

My screams rang frequent, only frozen when I caught my breath. This seemed to go on for ages - the noise, the whispers, the hot blood creeping down my legs, the equally cold and sweaty hands inching down my back, the ringing in my ears and throbbing pain throughout my whole body. I should have felt relief as I watched my hands clutch the knife between them and inch towards my heart, but I only felt more fear.

I was focused on the knife, awaiting the end, when I saw a figure maybe a half mile away, somehow lit up without the presence of light.

"Bucky!" I screamed, my voice catching on a sob. "Bucky, please!" But he did nothing. He stood, frozen and emotionless, watching me from a distance as if he couldn't do anything.

I watched in slow-motion as the knife pierced my skin, began to draw blood, and Bucky drew to a slow consciousness. Panic lit up his expression as the knife dug deeper and deeper into my frame. I couldn't feel a thing as my hands released the poised knife and my head lolled back. He was only a moment too late to reach out and save me.

Waking up with a jolt, I screamed for Bucky a handful of times. A minute or so passed with me burying my face into the pillow to muffle my screams and clutching my head tightly and I realized that he wouldn't be there. Bucky wasn't there. Not fully conscious yet, I bolted up and screamed for him again, assuming Hydra had him now. I remembered that it was I to blame for his absence, and began crying pitifully yet again. My screams ceased but the writhing and gasping for air continued, leaving me with a deeper pit of anxiety in my chest.

I didn't fall asleep after that, but assumed the position of Bucky on his first nights in my room. Back against the headboard, knees to chest, eyes glazed over and staring straight ahead. My head lolled to the side as my unstable mind blanked. Either that or it was so alight with panic and fear that it all became a jumbled buzz. Either way, I hadn't another thought, and I was finally at peace if for two hours.

____

     I may have put in little effort into my appearance that morning, but I didn't care in the slightest. The memories of the previous nights nightmare kept me from really thinking of my actions as I stumbled into the elevator and made my way down one floor.

It had been a month since I had seen Bucky, or since I had been anywhere near his cell. For the most part, I feigned sick to get out of work, skipped the Thanksgiving and Christmas parties, slept quite a lot and downed plenty of alcohol after every nightmare.

I had seen Damon through the halls and in the meetings only a handful of times, but it was enough to send me to the bathroom after a wink was shot my way.

Absentmindedly, I swiped my ID and walked into the cell slowly. It seemed as if every step I took was even harder than the last. My whole body radiated with a dull pain and I could feel my stomach eating itself whole, and I had grown used to it.

Bucky looked up at me with a smile only matched with a kid on Christmas, only for it to fall when I began stumbling towards him and tripping over my own feet on my way there. He stood up and did his best to keep me from falling and crashing into his bed.

"Maisie," He said in a low voice, keeping me upright as I failed to do so myself. When I didn't respond, he spoke up. "Maisie! Maisie, what's wrong?"

I cleared my throat and shook my head urgently, trying to remove myself from his grip, but he had wrapped his cuffed hands around my body.

A pitiful, half-hearted and weak sob left my mouth as I bent forward in his arms, causing him to stumble onto the bed. "Please, let me go." My voice was unrecognizable, unused except to scream or sob. It was pathetic and barely-there and scared Bucky out of his mind.

"Maisie," His voice was full of panic as he tried to get me upright in his lap. "Maisie, please."

I, feeling defeated in my weakened state, leaned against his chest, buried my face into his neck and closed my eyes, going quiet.

Bucky continued to seemingly chant my name over and over in absolute panic for a few minutes until there was a loud noise in front of us and he hushed. There were voices and shouting and I felt myself being taken from Bucky, who began yelling horribly and asking what was going on.

The only voice I recognized was Steve's. "I heard her-" He didn't know how to add on to that. In a mad rush to get me out, he ordered the other voices to get me on the cot. His voice lowered as he spoke to a yelling Bucky. "Buck, I promise she'll be- . . .  Just- . . . no, I-" He bolted out after the group of men carrying me away, and then I blacked out.