Okay, so here's the next chapter! And soon, we shall finally reach the chapters where it REALLY becomes a Captain America fanfiction. Anyway, enjoy!
It had now been weeks since I had lost Anya, but I noticed one terrible thing. Ever since Anya died, my sanity drained at a much faster rate. I had no one to talk to. Alik, my only other friend, had been sent to a different base to work as part of a promotion. Obviously, with how esteemed the position was, he couldn't refuse. I didn't blame him. Lots of people here wanted to get out of this base. It was dark and frightening, even the guards sometimes had nightmares of the horrors lying in wait for them. I was still stuck here, though, and it seemed like I would be in this base forever. I had never felt so alone before. Not even the walls could keep me company anymore, for I grew tired of their harsh words.
The longer I stayed here, the more my dementia grew. It had grown so severe that I had started scratching messages into my cell walls with the coin Anya had given me a long time ago. My messages all over the walls ranged from "help me" to "they're watching" to "the voices don't know how to shut up". Some of the messages made absolutely no sense, like "the muffin's been eating the cranberries again". Well, it made sense to me in my mind, at the time. I tallied the passing days, hoping that one day I'd finally get out of this hellhole. I drew wide open eyes and grasping hands on the wall, along with graphic pictures of people being burned alive. When my coin would no longer suffice as a drawing utensil, I started scratching the walls with my own fingernails until my fingers bled. And this obsessive process continued for days on end. Sometimes, I'd even use the blood from my fingers as my ink. I felt as if there was this constant, angry presence that urged me to draw compulsively, or else I would die. My fingers couldn't take it, but I had to keep drawing. My broken mind was urging me to.
The guards showed little to no concern with my new hobby and would only show up to feed me or take me to brush up training. There had been no missions for a while. By the time there was a mission, I was mentally a wreck. I kept staring off into space as if there was something there, sometimes I could've sworn seeing a shadowy figure in the distance, tall and proud and ominous. I grew paranoia of constantly being watched. I could barely pay any attention to the briefing of the mission. The location was not too far away from our base. I was to raid another small town. I sighed at the notion of it. This was getting boring, and it was bad for my brain. I couldn't handle seeing more death.
When pressed by the Headmaster to kill the people in our way, I stood there. I stood there and contemplated his order. He had taken everything from me. My friend, my mother, my innocence, my sanity, all of them gone. What more could he possibly take away from me? I shrugged, stared at my master for a moment, thinking over the options. I had already been hurt a lot, and I had nothing left to believe in. If I refused, he had no one to use as bait for me to snap again, and I'd save many lives instead of adding more to my already high kill count. I looked around, and just right up walked away from the town. I was done killing people. I could still hear the screams of the people I had killed last time, and I wanted to make up for it, to stop the voices, to stop the screams. I glanced back at the Headmaster, who gave me a glare filled with poison over my disobedience. I no longer cared, however, and willingly let the guards drag me back to the base.
I expected to just be sent straight back to my cell, but they kept dragging me further down the hall, and dragging me down the stair. Down, down, and down we went through the dark stairwells, past the labs, past the testing chambers. I widened my eyes in horror as I realized where they were taking me. I was being dragged to the torture chambers. I flailed my arms now, trying to get away this time. I didn't want to go there! I had heard the screams of the tortured double agents come from there, and they sounded like they were in immeasurable pain. I couldn't handle that treatment! Unfortunately, despite my attempts, the guards' grips were too strong. They threw me into the chambers once we reached the room and locked me into the main room where I awaited my punishment. I wanted to get out of there, but escape was futile. The only exit was locked, and my mind was too scattered to concentrate on my flame-conjuring.
I paced restlessly, occasionally scratching into the walls, begging for help, praying for it, wanting escape more than anything else in the world, a life free from this madness and torment. It was the only thing I could do now, and I prayed that my punishment would not be too horrible. Soon, the Headmaster entered the room, his eyes narrowed in a murderous glare with a glint of sheer insanity. I was not the only one here with a sick mind. I gulped at his frightening expression, my hopes diminishing the more I stared at him. I was so terrified that I couldn't even scream as he roughly grabbed my hands and bound them together, as well as my feet. He dragged me to the first room, leading me to a large, wooding wheel with largely spaced spokes. Beside it was a large, wooden sledgehammer that was stained with dried blood.
I shut my eyes tight as he tied me to the wheel and spun me around a few times. I waited for what seemed like forever in fright as he slowly raised the hammer. Then the pain came. I was not prepared by the time he brought the hammer down on my left arm and brought with it a sickening crack. The sound of my bones snapping. I let out a blood-curdling scream as tears ran down my face as I felt an immeasurable amount of pain. I could not even open my eyes to see how bad the injury was. Then, he used the same treatment on my other arm and my legs, each hit coming with a crack and a scream from me. I had screamed in pain for so long that my throat was burning.
The Headmaster then dragged my broken body to a second room, chaining my feet to a weight on the floor and chaining my arms behind my back. He slowly turned a crank attached to the chains on my arm and slowly brought my arms back until my shoulders dislocated simultaneously. I let out a grunt of pain, clenching my teeth together and trying to stop the flow of tears from my eyes. I prayed that this torment would be over soon. Unfortunately, how wrong I was, to believe he was merciful. He was utterly insane. He was laughing at my pain, and my tears, and my breaking willpower. He dragged me to yet another room where a bronze bull stood in the middle with a pipe in its mouth. The Brazen Bull. I widened my eyes, but because of my broken limbs, I was unable to struggle free. He tossed me into the bull and locked me in there, lighting a fire underneath it and leaving me there for a long time. My panic rose as the heat did, and although I could handle fire well, when I was being cooked alive inside a bull for longer than most people, even my skin would start to get burned. I was yelling to be free, but, as the device was named, the Headmaster would only hear a bull braying angrily. I was left in there for what seemed like forever before he finally let me out. I had minor burns all over my body now. The sting of the burns was especially apparent in my broken limbs and cut fingers.
The Headmaster took me to a final room, chained me to the wall, and grinned cruelly at my frightened expression. "Like a rabbit caught in a trap," he said softly, sadistically, a wolfish grin on his face. I whimpered in fear and pain as he drew his sword, a weapon that glinted an ice cold light in the dim room. All I could do was sit there as he advanced and started to slice at me with his sword. I screamed and cried, my eyes letting out a continuous stream of tears. "This'll teach you obedience!" he snarled, laughing maniacally. He was insane! He had no mind, he had no heart! How the hell had he lived this long with such a sick soul? He sliced across my back, and I screamed until my throat was numb as I felt his sword dig into my back, drawing the sword slowly across it into the shape of a z, exposing bone in some areas. He eventually stopped slicing at me and chuckled at my sorry state before leaving me there in a pool of my own blood. The loss of blood and the trauma I had faced left me frazzled, and my vision started fading. I could barely see the faint silhouettes of people rushing towards me as everything faded to black.