I'll Keep This Secret For You

Chapter 61

Bucky's POV:

I lay there on that tiny, hard, flat metal table, barely awake, barely able to keep my eyes open, shivering violently and I'm not sure if it's because I'm cold from being in a damp, freezing room especially after what they just did to me (hint: it left me soaking wet), scared of the unknown, dangerously weak for obvious reasons or a combination of the three. All I know is that I just want to die if it means getting out of here.

My cheek still throbs from the last punch I received and I gingerly lift my trembling metal hand to touch my cheek and wince at the harsh sting. When I flinch it away again I can see that my fingers are slick with blood. Then again, can I really trust my vision right now? It's so fuzzy and blurry and I'm sure I've been starting to hallucinate recently. But the dark red blood trickling down my finger is such a contrast to the shiny, silver metal plates.

All I can taste is the metallic taste of blood. I haven't eaten or drunken in what feels like weeks. My throat is as dry as the Sahara Desert. I try to swallow but it feels like someone is raking knives down my throat.

It's gotten to the point where my stomach isn't even growling anymore, it just aches. I just feel empty and nauseous. It's not that I feel like I'm starving - even though I know I am - but know I need to eat. What I wouldn't do for just a bite of anything right now.

I swear I can hear some kind of dripping from somewhere in the room, like a faucet. It's driving me insane knowing that there's water somewhere and I just don't have the energy to find it.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

That's it. I need to find this before I go mad. I haul myself up into a sitting position but nearly have to lie back down because of the intense head rush I get. Eventually I manage to stand up but end up stumbling forward and having to lean against a rough, concrete wall. Using it for support I make my way towards where I think the noise is coming from but it's hard because it seems to be echoing around he room, rattling in my brain.

But finally I find it. A small little rusty tap that I probably shouldn't drink out of, leaking onto the floor leaving a slippery, slimy trail.

I cry out in relief and collapse to my knees, sticking my mouth under the tap, waiting for a few tiny soothing drops to fall onto my tongue and quench my thirst. But it's not enough. I reach up to try and turn the tap on but it's either stuck or I'm too weak to turn it.

As I'm wrestling with the handle I don't notice the two guards stepping inside.

"Oi!" One of them shouts gruffly causing me to jump in fright and cower back against the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Get back where your supposed to be!" The other growls.

"I-I just needed a drink. P-please." I whimper terrified.

"Aw, you needed a drink? Is the Soldier thirsty?" One of them pouts mockingly.

I nod rigidly.

"You shouldn't be thirsty?" He frowns confused. "Just this morning you had the opportunity to drink plenty of water?"

"Th-that's not fair." I protest daringly. "I was panicking, you were holding me down. Drinking was not what I was thinking about."

"Well maybe if you just did what we wanted you to do we could reward you with food and water!" He hisses suddenly charging at me, grabbing me by the throats and pinning me up against the wall so that my feet are dangling.