ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ━ Bucky Barnes/Avengers

11: escaping trauma

"No, please!"

The man's tight grip on my wrists drags me across the room as I struggle to escape. There's no use.

"Coming to a place like this is not safe for you, little girl. But we could use your help."

The center of the room was a table, a long enough size to fit me in. More of them are surrounding it, waiting for me.

My eyes widen and I shake my head repeatedly in fear, "No, please, I don't want to! I want my papa!"

The man stops and looks at me, "Your papa's not here, child, he has something important to do." He pauses again, and then smiles, "And so do you."

I was too weak to do anything so they were easily able to pin me down on the table and cuff my wrists to it. I couldn't escape anymore, even if I tried.

The man walks away from the table and goes to another to get something. When he comes back, he holds a needle in his hands, "This will only hurt for a moment."

I scream for help, but everyone else there was only watching. The needle gets closer to my skin before it touches I the door slam open and a voice yells my name.

"Dianna!"

It was my father's. I spot him trying to run towards me, but they stopped him, forcing him back out the door. That was the last time I saw him.

The needle resumes and finally touches my skin. The pain was bearable at the beginning, but when the man inserted whatever was in it, the pain began to kill me. And it continued for as long as I can remember.

•

I wake up abruptly, with sweat on my forehead and tears down my cheeks, from the same nightmare that I haven't had in years. I catch my breath and wipe away the tears.

I find myself alone in a room, confused why I was lying on a bed. I start to remember, piece by piece of what happened. My heart begins to ache once again, worsening each second I think about it. I felt other pain around my body from the explosion, but nothing topped the tight feeling in my chest. I should've just died right then and there so I didn't have to suffer from knowing the truth.

When the door suddenly opens, I stop myself from tearing up.

"Steve," I say as he walks into the room.

"Hey," he sits down on the bed next to me, "how're you feeling?"

I fake a smile, "I'm fine, just a little pain here and there."

He sighs, "I really thought we lost you back there. I'm glad we were able to find you before Rumlow spotted us."

"Yeah, me too." That was a lie. "How's Natasha?"

"She's alright, from the looks of it."

I look around and scan the room, "Where are we anyway?"

"At a friend's. We're lucky that he let us stay here."

We both suddenly remain quiet for a second, circling in our own thoughts. Everything is taking a toll on us, and I'm sure there's more coming. The fight isn't over yet.

"Listen," he starts. I knew what he was about to say and I didn't want to talk about it. At least not right now.

"-Steve." I cut him off, "I'm fine."

I try to sound as calm and stern as possible so that he wouldn't ask anymore. He studies me for a second until he finally gets that I didn't want to talk about it. I'd rather forget it all happened if anything.