Distressed // Steve Rogers

24 - The Buyer

She couldn't tell the time anymore. All she knew was she was alone in the shell of a bedroom. She kept her eyes closed as the apathy took hold. She craved the cold caresses of numbing emptiness. She craved anything but the pain of this.

"No!" She screamed as they beat him. Even after pumping him with sedatives three of them pinned him down as two more held her back. "Stop! Please!"

He groaned as his eyes rolled back and he struggled to hold his head up.

"Bucky. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She cried as they hurt him, barely feeling the grip of their hands against her skin, the bruises forming as she pulled towards him. "Please." Her body shook as she begged for them to stop, as she watched him slip from consciousness again. "Please stop."

She kicked and screamed as they pulled her from the room, craning to see him, to stay with him as the door slammed against the frame and she felt the drag of her body as the sickeningly sweet scent invaded her senses, pulling her into the darkness again.

She knew if she opened her eyes she would see the soft glow of synthetic light from the small bathroom. She knew she would see the small chair bolted to the floor so that she couldn't use it against him, the drawer filled with clothes she had left behind years ago. Clothes he had kept and carried with him. She knew if she opened her eyes she would see this for what it was: a prison designed specifically for her.

Her mind was cloudy, like she couldn't climb out of the fog, and she whimpered as she thought of Bucky, cold and lifeless on the floor; beaten within an inch of his life because of her. Her bones ached and when she moved pain ripped through her. She opened her eyes as she pieced together broken images of the hours that had passed. She remembered needles and fists. She remembered hair being pulled from her scalp as she was thrown to the ground. She remembered feeling the burn of his rage again and again. She remembered pain.

Holding her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs she broke over and over again. In all of the darkness she clung to the good. She clung to Steve; his gentle kisses, his overly energetic laughter, the way he held her. She clung to him with desperation. She clung to Bucky too; the drip of sarcasm when he spoke to her, always with a smirk, the way he relaxed into their weird friendship so easily as if it hadn't started as a bitter loathing. She clung to the hope he was okay.

The clink of keys and click of locks forced her to become more alert, pulling back as she scuttled back against the headboard, curling into herself, her eyes darting around the room for an escape, a weapon, anything.

"Get up," he purred as he took a menacing step towards her. "We're leaving."

Talia stared at him; unflinching, unmoving.

"I'm sorry Princess," Matthieu launched at her, grabbing hold of her arm and yanking her from the bed. "Did you think it was optional?"

Staring into his icy eyes she felt sick. She took a deep breath as his grip tightened around her arm and she tried to pull away.

"I am not going anywhere with you Matthieu," she spat each word at him through gritted teeth, summoning all the venom she could muster. "You destroyed me. I am not yours to take and I am not going with you."

He stared at her, his eyes softening as he became confused, he became hurt.

"If you ever loved me Matthieu, you would let me go. You would let me walk out of that door with Bucky and you would leave me alone, forever. If you loved me at all you would do that." She pulled back and this time he let her. She stumbled away from him, her legs shaking with fear as she watched his features shift in a way she recognised, a way that sent ice into the pit of her stomach. His eyes were pained at first, wide and wounded. But that wounded animal look turned dark and cruel as he stalked her, his prey, and he reached out to grab her.