Baby Barton

Chapter 75 Chloe Barton - Detox

"So how does this work?" Bucky shuffles his feet uncomfortably in the door way.

The shitty apartment that he procured in Bucharest is dingy, damp and sort of smells like onions...but at least you are under the radar. Hopefully out here, if you can keep your noses clean you wont have any trouble.

You and Bucky have barely spoken three words between you since leaving Steve at the riverside.
He tried his best to keep you warm in the cargo hold of a plane to Vienna, bursting open cases to find suitable clothing for you both.
It was the longest 8 hours 49minutes of your life, you body rattled as the itch burned from the core out. Desperate to be filled with the sweet nectar of heroin. You vomited a couple of times, god those poor people when they get their cases.

Bucky startles you by taking a step forward, "Chloe...how does this work?" His face full of concern.
"How does what work?!" You snap at him, you're jumpy and tetchy. Your skin feels like its on fire, every part of you aches and your senses are uncomfortably heightened. The smell of this place turning your stomach inside out.
"Uh...detox, going clean?" He clarifies, his voice laced with obvious guilt.
You do your best to stop your lip from trembling, back here again.
"Call it whatever the fuck you want." You turn away from him, trying to hide the shame.
A fucking junkie.
Once a junkie, always a junkie.
Who said that again?
Pretty sure it was mom.
"Might be easier this time, its only been 3 hits." You slump down onto the mattress on the floor, "after 5 years sober." You tried to subdue the feeling of defeat, but its stronger than you.
"5 fucking years." Repeating harshly as the bitter emotion stings your lungs.
Bucky crouches down on the flood hovering next to you, his greasy hair hanging in front of his face masking him, "how many days?" You are thankful for his short sentences, because you don't want to talk to him. You resent him.
"About two to three days should do it, I've been sober for twenty four hours or so." You heave an irritated sigh, talking about it makes you want to shoot up really bad.

You remember going sober in prison, how awful it was. The clinical smell of the cell, how cold it was...the silver toilet bowl where you evacuated every bodily fluid know to man.
Yet somehow you would give anything to be back in the luxury of that cell, to start over again. Because anything is better than here, now.

Bucky shuffles himself and moves from crouching to sitting, wrapping his arms around his legs. The slight movement causing you to flinch.
"Food and water...what about the uh...uh..." he stutters uncomfortably.
You throw your arms out exasperated, "uh...uh...what James?" You've lost your patience.
He scrunches his eyebrows nervously, "b...bathroom breaks?"
He's embarrassed.
HE'S EMBARRASSED...?!
He tugs on the long sleeves of his burgundy henley shirt that he took from one of the cases, his hands covered by black leather gloves, why?
"Fucking hell! Thats why there are three buckets." You point to them irritably.
His eyes flit around the floor at the steel receptacles.
"Three..." he mumbles, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Are you gonna make me say it?" You get up and walk to the first bucket, "piss." You kick the bottom of the second, "vomit." Then angrily you wave your hand towards the third, "shit."
"Get it now Bucky?" You glare at him nostrils flared in rage.

You are so ashamed. You wish you could have been stronger, why did you have to be so stubborn. You should have stormed out of Clints yard and went back to bed. You didn't have to run away from Steve. Why did you have to be the weakest link...again?
Oh god.
Steve.
Your eyes well up, picturing his lifeless body by the river.
Your last kiss being your sad cold lips pressed against his, a goodbye kiss.
You don't even know if he's alive.
Bucky stands, "I'm sorry." And you know that he is genuinely sorry.
You know that he didn't have a choice, but right now in this moment you fucking hate him all the same.
He trudges off out of the door his head hung in shame.
"Bucky..." you call after him, "this isn't going to be pleasant," your voice cracks under the deep rooted humiliation, "tomorrow, you wont hear from me. You'll think I'm dead..." Bucky's eyes widen, you can see tears forming as he listens intently, "b...but the day after..." you struggle to even think about the horrors you are about to face, and its worse because you know exactly whats about to happen. You've done it more times than you care to remember, but its only ever stuck once.
Bucky takes a step toward you panic stricken by the wave of silence that seems to have hazed your brain, "wh...what is it...the day after...what?"
You get up, walking towards him sheepishly. He takes a step backwards hovering just outside the door frame, "I'll scream Bucky...I'll beg for it...I will tell you that I'll do anything, and I'll mean it." Tears stream down your face as you stutter through the sobs, "I'll bawl...I will tell you that I hate you. Under no circumstances have you to open that door.  Y'hear me? Do not open that fucking door."
He nods, there isn't anything else he can do.
And with that you close the door locking it and slide the key underneath to him.