Screams pierced through the cool night air, before a metal arm reached out and beat her head in. Blood stained the brick wall instantly.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked, breath in short gasps. She had tried for so long to fight the silent man off and drive away, but he was too strong for he to overpower. She begged for him to stop, her words becoming more and more like a pained wild animal. That's what he saw her as anyways. To him, the woman was just an animal that needed to be euthanized.
It was primal, this incessant need to kill his prey. He would gain nothing out of it. He knew that, he never got anything out of killing. Not even joy. But he did it anyway, without end, without restraint, he kills and kills till he's told he can stop. Although he can never stop. He doesn't know why, he just knows he can't.
Her head split open, revealing skull and brains, and the woman stopped screaming. He let the body fall to the ground, considering the job done. He had begun walking away when he heard it. A baby crying in the backseat of the car, crying for it's now dead mother. He stared at the child through the window. It's tiny face was red as it wailed and it's dark brown eyes overflowed with tears. It couldn't have been more than a few months old. A twang of compassion played at his heart before his shook his head, squashing the emotion. He had orders. 'No witnesses'. That's what he had been told, and he'd be damned if he was going to be punished for not following orders.
He tore the door off the car, hearing it land about 10 feet away. The baby cried even louder, it's screams piercing the night sky, seeing the man with a metal arm and a mask. Closer now, he could see it was a baby girl, with a little tutu attached to her onesie He felt nothing as he reached out and snapped the little girl's neck.
Bucky stepped back, away from the car, tripping over the woman. He looked into her dead eyes, staring blankly back at him. He looked over to the infant, limp in the backseat.
"No." He whispered, coming to his senses. The crisp air chilled him to the bone as he stood over the carnage he had just delivered. His blue eyes darted as he tried comprehending the scene. The blood drying on his hands, the body on the ground, and even worse, the body in the car. His hands shook as his breathing become panicked gasps.
"It wasn't- it can't-no. No.". He stumbled over the corpse, his feet wanting to run away. His legs failed his and his knees slammed to the hard gravel. He struggled to tear the mask off his face, only to find that it was a part of him, merged with his skin. His fists clenched, his fingernails digging into the palms of his flesh hand.
"Help." He squeaked, almost too terrified to speak. He knew no one could hear him. He was miles away from civilization and he had just brutally murdered the only person that was dumb enough to be out here. He couldn't even remember why he was here. It felt wrong, it was wrong. He shouldn't have been here.
"Orders. Must follow orders. Kill." His thoughts prompted, rising above the confusion of the rest of his thoughts. Bucky covered his ears tightly, trying to block out the voices. He recognized that voice. It wasn't his own. His body wasn't his own. The only thing that was his was the fear.
"Ready to comply." His mind shouted. He was rocking back and forth, his whole body tense. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to cry, but all he could do was cower.
"Go away." He muttered, trying to force the voice out of his mind. The voice only got louder as he fought.
"READY TO COMPLY!" It screamed, filling his mind with only that thought. Bucky snapped.
"I said go away!" He demanded, slamming his metal fist into the gravel. The ground cracked beneath him. Snow flooded his vision as a train sped by. And he fell. The wind whipped around him whilst he tumbled down a ice covered canyon. He plunged to his death, screaming. The ground was coming at him faster and faster.
"Steve!" He screamed into the emptiness, hoping maybe he'd somehow save him.
Bucky's eyes snapped open just before he hit the ground. He was covered in a cold sweat and though he didn't remember crying, there were tears streaming down his face. Strong hands were clutching his bare shoulders. He couldn't see anyone in the dark room, but he heard a voice.
"Buck, I'm right here. It's okay." The strangely familiar voice said, but Bucky couldn't understand it. In his mind he was still falling, still killing, still dying. He couldn't imagine that'd he somehow wound up in the safety of his warm bed.
"Get off of me!" He screamed, swinging wildly at whoever was holding him down. He felt his fist connect with flesh. A man grunted and he heard a body fall to the ground. A light flicked on and he saw him.
Steve Rogers was clutching his side on the floor, his shield had fallen off the bed, clattering to the ground. Bucky tore his blankets off and raised a fist, ready to fight, to on guard to realize who it was.
"Bucky! It's me! Steve! It's Steve!" Steve shouted his hands raised in surrender. Bucky's eyes met his, a tear falling down his face.
"Steve." Bucky whispered, sinking back down onto the bed. He stared blankly at his friend as tears fell from his eyes. Steve got up and sat beside him. Bucky felt a strong arm wrap around his waist. He leaned into Steve's body, enjoying the familiar warmth.
"What happened?" Steve asked, brushing Bucky's hair away from his face. Bucky shook his head. He knew what happened, but he couldn't explain it. He had known soldiers to be shell shocked after war, but he never got the chance for it to happen to him. He didn't get to keep his memories, there was seventy years missing in his life. He wiped away tears as Steve looked on, concerned.
"It sounded like someone had got in here. I heard you screaming and then something broke." Steve explained worriedly. A broken lamp lay just next to the nightstand, alongside multiple books. Bucky assumed that he must've thrown them off at one point in the night.
"I'm fine." He lied. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it was the exact opposite of fine. He was so very far from fine right now.
"Are you sure?" Steve asked, still worried about his friend, holding him tightly. Bucky nodded slowly, wanting to be alone, but not wanting Steve to leave him.
"So can I go?"
"Yeah." Bucky muttered, lying through his teeth. He shuddered as Steve's warm body got up from the bed, leaving him to face the cold alone. He refused to look up and see his friend go. He could hear the clatter of Steve's shield when he picked it up. The heavy footsteps heading towards the door. The heavy mechanical door sliding open, and Bucky lost it. He couldn't be alone tonight. Not after what he had just seen.
Too soon, the door closed and Bucky was left alone in the cold, dark room, wrestling with his thoughts, trying to make sense of the dreams. The woman's eyes still stared back at him, glassy orbs burning into his thoughts. The dead infant screamed in his ear throughout night, driving him insane. Until sun filtered through the blinds and birds chirped outside. Bucky sat, trembling on his bed, his eyes glossed over, his knees tight to his chest, rocking back and forth, trying to cope with the horrors, which felt too real to be just a dream. He relived the bloody scene over and over, hearing the screams pounding in his skull, feeling the snap of a tiny neck. He was paralyzed, long after the dream was over, long after Steve left, long after the sun had risen.
It was noon when Steve finally returned, worried about his friend. He saw Bucky staring at the wall rocking back and forth. Blood was streaming down his arm as he unconsciously dug his nails into the skin. His eye's were bloodshot from crying, yet they looked like they had lost all feeling. Steve's heart broke at the sight. Bucky was no longer scared. He was broken. Completely, totally broken.