The lost soul

Chapter 7

Bucky pov

After I hurt her, I knew there was no return. I would stay as far away from her as possible. I would never get help again. If I died, so be it. I don't even know where I'm going until I see my street name. I rush into my apartment and lock the door. I run into the bathroom and punch the mirror. The glass shatters everywhere, embedding in my skin. Pain. All I knew for 70 years was pain. It was a horrible yet familiar feeling. I hated it, but also relished it. That sense of familiarity. No part of the world was familiar anymore. Pain was the only place I found comfort. In familiarity and... I deserve it. I leave the bathroom, ignoring my wounds. I look at my metal arm in resentment. I'm getting this thing off. I pry at it, trying to tear it off. The only thing I do is make myself bleed. The tissue surrounding it pours blood, but I don't give up. I keep trying until I start to feel lightheaded. I fall to the ground, but keep trying, until I fall unconscious.

I wake up, my whole body throbbing. Nothing hurts more than my head however. I wipe my eyes with my hands, making sure I didn't cry. Thankfully, I find none. I glance around, and realise that I'm heavily bandaged. The glass had been picked out, and the wounds stitched. I hadn't even realised my knuckles were bleeding from punching the mirror, but they were also bandaged. I feel the area around my arm and feel bandaging there too. I look at my surroundings. My assassin trained eyes scan for escapes and potential threats. I hate it but it might be useful sometimes. My eyes lock onto someone. Steve. My eyes widen as my heart pounds. I want to run over to him, hug him, apologise... But I can't. I'll hurt him again. He walks over to me, sat up against a wall, and I hurry into the corner.
"Stay away from me," I say, panicking, "I'll, I'll hurt you."
Steve looks me in the eyes with his. His eyes reflect sorrow and guilt. I don't know what he has to be guilty for. Looking into his eyes, a murderer looking into a pure man's eyes, proves to be painful, so I look at my feet. He comes over to me regardless.
"Buck, it's okay. Don't worry." He says.
"I'm not Bucky," I hiss, "I'm a murderer. I don't deserve a name," I blink away tears before Steve notices.

"Test 403, successful! Send him to the lab!" The doctor calls out. I sit in the seat, my heart pounding. They'd finally gotten to me. I hang my head and let the tears come. They flood my world, filling every single crevice. I cry until I can't anymore. That's when I started to scream. The frustration, pain, anger, everything. They take me to a lab where Howard Stark enters. His eyes are white, and dead.
"You killed me soldier. You deserve this pain," he says. I look around and realise everyone is the victim of my gun. I put my hands to my head and scream in pain.

I wake up to Steve looking over me.
"You okay Buck?"
"Is this even real?" I whisper. "I can't even tell if this is real or not."
Steve comes and sits next to me.
"It's real. If it wasn't, you wouldn't answer to me." He says. I nod, and hold back my tears.
"It's okay Buck, you can cry." Steve says. I shake my head.
"No I can't. Because you're you and I'm me," I murmur, a faint smile playing on my lips.