Chapter 11: Why Me?

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Warning: Panic Attack, Torture, Depression

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"Ouch!" Bucky practically yelled in my ear.
I glared at his overdramatic ass. He barely said a thing when I took the bullet out of his shoulder, but when I try to take out a little splinter in his finger, he starts to cry. We are in a very old and abandoned house. I honestly don't know where we are, but we are away from HYDRA and alive, so that's all that matters. He seems to get in trouble and injured a lot. "Ow!"

"Bucky, it's just a splinter. You handled the bullet wound much better then this." I stood up and handed him the tweezers. "You get it out. I need... I need to go for a walk."

I walked out the building and towards the woods. I kept walking for about 5 minutes before stopping. I sighed as I plop down on the ground near a tree. I stretched my legs out and leaned my head back on the tree. I lifted my head and looked at me clothes. They were covered in dirt and had some blood from helping Bucky. I quickly changed into a different outfit, hating the feeling of having Bucky's blood on me. I sighed out as tried to relaxed my tense muscles. I'm so tired. My adrenaline has gone down, but my magic was so strong right now.

I don't know what to do... what happens now? I was looking forward to seeing the others, and now I've visited them. How long will we be on the run? What if we did stay at the Avengers tower? Me and Bucky. I can tell Dad doesn't like Bucky to much. I think it's because he has been with HYDRA for so long and the fact that all of a sudden I just leave with him.

I noticed my shirt had moved up a bit from when I sat down and a leaf tickled my skin, making me itchy. I cringe when I scratched one of my scars. I rubbed it, not wanting to actually scratch. I hate the feeling of it when I scratch it. The memory of the scar played in my head. I flinched as if I felt the knife touch my skin. I was only 6. I think of the number 00127. Did they do tests before me? They most likely did. It's not like their first attempt was a success and decided to not do it anymore. Just the thought of some other kids going through what I did. Everyday, waking up on the cold floor, only to be beaten, used, tested, and broken. I remember the tank. They would hold my head underwater... like in the movies. I hate water. I don't do baths, only showers. Push me in a body of water, you're dead. Back in Washington D.C., I passed out because of the shock and I was injured.

I remember the dark room. That's what I called it. They would throw me in there and leave me there for a hours. It was pitch black with nothing in it. I held my eyes open, but I couldn't see a thing. It was like they were closed. I would see things. I would think there were ghost, or something. The room felt huge... it was so cold. I would think of all the scary stories I've heard and just sit in a corner. Didn't go any farther. I didn't stand in the middle. Being alone in the dark scares me. Being alone with my thoughts isn't safe.

I hate electric shocks. Like, ever get shocked by a cord while plugging it into the wall. They would use electrical wires and hook them to every part of my body. At first, they would just give me little shocks, enough to make you uncomfortable and cry. Then, they started to get intense. I full on screamed and shook from the power. They laughed. They fucking laughed. Every time.

I remember every kill. I remember all the people I killed. All of them? Hundreds of different screams and cry's for help. Hundreds of lives taken, by me. I remember their names because I read the guest logs ins and reports. The stupid stones won't let my forget anything. I can't forget anything. Tell me your favourite word in the whole world, I'll see you in 50 years and tell you the exact same word. I remember every fucking hit! Every punch, kick, cut, shock, pull, push. I close my eyes and I'm living it again. The mind stone mixed in the with space stone. The mind stone making me remember, the space stone making me aware of every thing around me.Everyday I push it all back, focusing on the positive. I try not to think about it.

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