The Mechanic || 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳¹

eight

It begins easily, like a tickling going through your brain. You're careful of letting your guard down though because you've heard Bucky scream when he's on this machine.

Then the pain hits you. All at once. With its full strength. A wave of pressure from both sides of your head, from where the machine touches you. You tense up until your muscles tremble and an agonized scream leaves your lips, muffled by the piece of plastic. You gasp for air, trying to escape the pain. The pressure doesn't let up, no matter how hard you try to suppress it.

You try to hold on to the memories, but you can feel them slip away, disappear in the pain. You bite on the plastic in your mouth, but that doesn't stop you from screaming. It feels like you're burning and drowning at the same time, falling, and being compressed, it's worse than anything you've ever felt.

You want Pierce to torture you. You want him to cut you with his scalpel, to slowly separate your skin from your flesh. You want him to watch you scream under his blade. You want him to draw on you with his knife like you were a canvas and the blade his brush. Anything but this.

And Bucky went through this hundreds of times, over and over again. He sat in this chair and endured the pain. He sat in this chair you built. You've never felt worse in your entire life.

You can't remember how you built it anymore. You still feel the metal below your fingers, the tools in your hands, but it is blurry, the different memories blend together, overlap, you can't differentiate them anymore.

What only could've taken minutes felt like hours. Your head falls on the back of the chair and you pant hard, trying to stay conscious. You don't want to show them how weak you are.

"You did good," Pierce whispers while walking up to you and slowly tucking your hair behind your ear. You wince and try to get out of his touch. He chuckles slightly. Something cold presses against your cheek, cutting the wound open again. You don't flinch, don't cry out in pain. What he does to your cheek relieves you, distracts you from the storm in your head. The storm of memories, faces, wishes, hopes. The storm of everything you've ever felt.

Then he lifts you, grabs you under your armpits and knees, and carries you down the hall, into your room. You want to hit him, slap him, bite him, kick him, do anything to get him to let go, but he doesn't react to any of your weak movements.

He lets you down on your bed and leaves the room. You curl up into the corner of the bed, trying to shut everything out.

You need to remember.

You need to remember.

You need to remember.

You need to remember.

Why?

You can't forget.

What?

Bucky. Bucky. The Winter Soldier.

How?

Think of him, think of him, think of him, think of him...

His rare smile when he looked at you. When he thought of someone... a blonde man. When you told him to remember, and he did.

His screams in the lab when they wiped him. When they tortured him. When they forced him to be someone he wasn't.

The light in his eyes when he started to remember. It had got brighter every day. You wish you could see it one more time, enjoy his presence one more time...

You need to remember.

You don't know how long you're curled up. You don't know what time it is when you get up. You don't know what you're thinking when you stumble to the dirty mirror and look at yourself.

Pale skin. Dark circles under your eyes. Greasy hair. A red, bleeding star right below your left eye. You look sick, terrified, grieving, devastated, all at once. And so much more no one will ever see in your eyes.

Was this how Bucky felt?

Was this how you made Bucky feel?

You built the chair.

You built his arm.

You made him.

You made The Winter Soldier, and you will never forgive yourself.

But you hope. You hope that he will forgive you, that he will realize that you didn't do it purposely. You were numbed. You didn't know what you were doing. You hope that he realizes that and realizes you're trapped. Lost. You hope that he realizes you can't escape on your own, just like he couldn't.

You hope that he will save you.

He will come for you. He will come for Pierce and Hydra and to burn this place to the ground.