[Bucky's screams are cut silent by a hand in his hair and he flinches away. He remembers hands like those, when one pulled on his hair and the other his jaw, forcing a piece of rubber between his lips. He remembers they got frustrated when he kept giving his name, kept giving his number. He thought that's what they wanted, but they became more angry with him, even when he stopped saying no.
That's when the first drug him from the cold, his knees loose underneath him, eyes rolling around in his head as fingers yank him up by his hair and pull open his mouth.
The chair. He can't remember it being built, or how they decided to use it, but his memory gets worse here, the fragments more powderized, more uneven. The first time... the first time they were still angry. Once, twice, three times he screamed until his voice gave out, until he had nothing left to give, but they wanted something more, something else.
They must have figured it out because that's where Bucky's foggiest memories end and only faces remain. Faces like Maria and Howard Stark. Like Nicholas Fury. Like Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.
He doesn't tell the hand in his hair no. He knows what's coming.]
no subject
That's when the first drug him from the cold, his knees loose underneath him, eyes rolling around in his head as fingers yank him up by his hair and pull open his mouth.
The chair. He can't remember it being built, or how they decided to use it, but his memory gets worse here, the fragments more powderized, more uneven. The first time... the first time they were still angry. Once, twice, three times he screamed until his voice gave out, until he had nothing left to give, but they wanted something more, something else.
They must have figured it out because that's where Bucky's foggiest memories end and only faces remain. Faces like Maria and Howard Stark. Like Nicholas Fury. Like Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.
He doesn't tell the hand in his hair no. He knows what's coming.]