stoneheart ; 𝐭. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 , 𝟐

09 | stay awake

february 2019

THE HOURS PASSED slowly. All Jack could do was lay on her back, watching the ceiling and squeezing her hands into fists. She'd spent months being locked in a room small enough to act as a broom closet, but this, being strapped down by her neck, wrists, and ankles—this was unlike any torture she'd ever endured.

That she could remember, at least.

Ethan Thompson's parting words rang in her head, echoing louder than even the memory of her parents' deaths. Everything will become clearer. You just have to wait a few hours.

Jack wasn't broken enough to trust him, as he'd held a knife to her throat, threatening to gut her open upon her arrival in this prison-like building, She hadn't reached that point of desperation. But given how things were looking for her, the constant rattling mind that kept her blood running icily through her veins, the horrors that haunted her every movement, it was starting to look like she hardly had any choice anymore. 

A small voice in her head taunted her, saying that maybe this was a good thing. You've been struggling to piece it all together for so long, you can't even remember where you came from. Maybe it would be better, just to forget. Wipe the slate clean and start over.

Of course, Jack was finding it in herself to fight that voice, to try not to give in to the dangers that it whispered in her ear, tempting her to throw herself off the cliff that she was standing on. 

My name is Jack, she told herself, but she felt the thought travel further, disappearing into the depths of her mind.

Just a moment later came a response. Hi, Jack. Are you like me? Are you healing? It was Bucky, the man she'd spoken to before, in her mind. She still had no clue how this was even possible, but she refused to distract herself with worrying about the details. As warped as it sounded, she knew that there was someone in her mind, someone who she could talk to, who could help keep her sane. 

I... she paused, closing her eyes and feeling a single, hot tear roll down her cheek. I don't know. How do I know if I'm healing? What does it even mean?

Bucky didn't reply for a couple seconds. She could feel his presence, like a comforting weight in her mind, one that didn't take over her entire being but instead sat beside her, like a friend. If you don't know it, you're not healing. You can heal, though. Anyone can heal, Jack. I healed, and I've been at this for seventy years. You just need to find your friends. Find your friends and you're on your way.

She held back a whimper. I don't think I have any friends. Except you. Are you my friend? What are you to me? What are we to each other?

You...you were my superior.

Your superior? Jack felt a cool wave run down the length of her body. She didn't like the sound of this. What do you mean? 

I mean, you were in my head. For weeks, maybe even months. You gave me orders, told me what to do. There was a pause, a gentle rest in his voice. Then, You really don't remember, do you? 

Jack shook her head despite there being hardly enough room for movement thanks to the strap. She knew he couldn't see her do it, anyway. She just didn't think she could think up the words to talk back to him.