So, I was going to wait to post this, but I've decided to put it up now, since I had it finished. It might be the only thing I get up today, I'm not sure.
chibichibi98: It's hard to picture it. It really is. That someone would be that sick. Could be that sick. But it's the sad truth.
Gilyflower: Yeah, me too.
Lesliezin: It's hard to imagine someone being capable of doing something like that, but it does happen. That's the sad part. She's definitely not going to make that mistake again.
hateme101: Kinda. People can do some stupid things will high.
DarylDixon'sLover: Yeah. I agree.
hkhorch: Thank you, hon! And yes, you'll find out how long she was gone.
Lexnewt: Thank you, hon. And don't worry. Olivia's got plenty of happiness and healing coming her way.
Chiharu-angel: There's a lot of times I wish I had a Bucky. But I'm doing okay. My emotions are haywire because of some other stuff going on, so I'm just taking it one hour at a time today.
CJ/OddBall: It's not a complete, word for word retelling. Obviously some things had to change for the story, some details, names, things like that. But it's the sad truth. A lot of the stuff that's happened in this story is true. Not just this chapter, which makes it even more depressing and morbid. I wasn't going to say anything until I decided to write this chapter. And thank you dear. I don't know if I'd consider myself strong, but I am getting better. And thank you for the hugs.
Azure83: Thanks, hon.
Hails: Yeah, it kinda came out of nowhere, but I needed to write it. And sadly, it does happen, and it happens a lot. And like Olivia, I wasn't the first. I was just lucky enough to get out.
Guest: It's taken me years to talk about it as well. No one even knows it happened to me, besides my therapist, and a few doctors. Even just writing a version of it was hard, but I'm slowly healing.
NadzKers12: Yeah, my therapist actually helped me write it. And I wasn't actually going to say anything about how true this story actually is, even though it's set in a fictional world with fictional characters. At least, until my therapist told me Olivia was basically me, and I was putting her through a version of what happened to me. It was kind of a rude awakening, and I broke down and had to get help from her. And there's so many times I wish I could have had a Bucky. It's taken me years to get it out, but it's kind of a relief.
Guest: Yeah, I couldn't not let James have his plums.
Cassouminette: You said it.
Farbeyondthegrave: Yeah, I don't know about that, but she's definitely going to work on protecting herself once she gets better.
Brittney-xx: Thank you. It feels good, getting it out. Not bottling it up all the time.
Tiphanie: Well, it's not a word for word, detail by detail retelling, some things had to change, some details, names, places. And I'd answer your questions (I don't really mind them), but I'd rather not scar everyone else for life. It's...it's pretty bad. That was a watered down version of what happened. But don't worry, things will get better. She'll start healing, with James' help.
XDancingTillFlamesX: James is going to take good care of Olivia. And thanks hon, I'll keep that in mind.
SilverShadowWolf46: Her break is coming. Good things are coming on the horizon.
Enjoy!
He'd been asleep at the time. A thump had woken him, and for a moment he didn't know what had happened. But then he'd picked up the ragged breaths, the sobs on the other side of the door. He was ashamed to say he knew who they belonged to. He put the gun he'd been gripping away and got up, unlocking the door.
He caught her as she fell against him. She was completely limp, freezing cold as she sobbed into his shoulder. He did a scan of her body, figuring out what was wrong. Bloody footprints marked where she'd been standing, her feet bare and cut up severely. He'd have to wash the prints off the stairs later. There was a bullet wound in her calf, blood trailing down her leg. He wouldn't have been surprised if she was naked under the coat.
"Oh shit, doll." He breathed, pulling her into the apartment before shutting and locking the door.
He moved her to the couch, sitting her down, not missing her whine of pain, or the way she stiffened when he did. There was blood splattered on her face, covering her hands. She was shaking violently, freezing cold. It had been one of the coldest nights in January so far last night. And she had obviously been out in it. She kept her eyes on him as he took her coat off, finding her in light pink underwear underneath, though it was barely recognizable from all the blood. He searched for the wound that was the cause of the blood, but found none.
"I killed them." She breathed, his sensitive ears picking it up.
"Who did you kill?" He asked, looking into her eyes.
They were glassy, unfocused, bloodshot. Her words were slurred and her face was flushed.
"The men who took me."
"Who took you?"
"They called me...Little Sister."
She had been gone five days. He'd scoured the city looking for her the next morning, even checked the hospitals, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. He figured she'd left, heading out on her own. He hadn't put serious thought into the idea that she could have been kidnapped. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner.
"What did they do to you?" He asked, grabbing the first aid kit and a bowl of warm water. He'd ask what she meant by 'killing them' when she was back to normal.
"They grabbed me off the road. Tied me up in a barn." He'd seen the raw skin of her wrists under the blood. "Gave me drugs." So she was high. Still, even now. "They...they..." She swallowed the lump in her throat, looking down at her hands. "They raped me." Her voice broke.
He put the bowl of water down before he shattered it in his hand. He felt the rage build in him. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to hurt them for what they had done. He took her leg, turning her slightly so he could see the bullet wound. She flopped over, limp on the couch as he dug it out. She didn't scream, or cry, which was alarming. She didn't even flinch when he sewed the wound shut. He lifted her back up into a sitting position, surprised to see her still conscious.
"They sold me. To men. They came and paid them. And raped me. I remember...some...but sometimes I was high..." She dragged the word out, before she broke down, sobbing as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Shh." He pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry." He said, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry I left you. I let this happen to you."
He held her for a long time, not caring that she got blood all over him. She needed him, and he wasn't about to let her go now. He'd made that mistake once. He'd learned his lesson.
He picked her up, moving to the bathroom where he turned on the water, making sure it was lukewarm as she was still freezing cold. He stepped into it, holding her, him still fully clothed, and her in her underwear. He let the water wash the blood off them both, watching the pink water go down the drain. She held him tightly, trusting him not to drop her as he lowered himself down into a sitting position so he could make sure all the blood was gone. She wasn't shivering as bad now. Not like she had been.
He turned off the water once they were clean, picking her up again to set her on the toilet lid. He grabbed her towel, drying her off carefully as he assessed her more now that she was clean. The cut on her forehead was healing nicely. He found stitches on the back of her head, and he was slightly grateful. He used a washcloth, making sure the dirt was washed out of the stitches before he wrapped her in the towel, leaving her there for a moment to grab one of his shirts.
He pulled the red Henley over her head, rolling up the sleeves so he could see her wrists. They weren't bleeding, but they were fairly raw. She jerked her hand from his, and he looked at her face, determination in her eyes as she reached back under the shirt, fumbling around. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and he watched as she pulled the bra off. She tossed it in the trash, doing the same with her underwear. She sighed, looking back up at him with soft eyes.
"You're still high." He said, picking her up again.
"Am I? I feel weird."
"And you will, until it's worked out of your system." He said, sitting her on the couch. "Which that will be a trip." He murmured.
She sat quietly, aside from the occasional sniffle as he cleaned her feet, picking out all the rocks, splinters, cleaning the dirt and blood off. He wrapped them with gauze, knowing there was no point to using individual bandages.
He got a glass of water, watching as she gulped down the whole thing, handing it back to him, asking for more. She drank three glasses before he cut her off. But he didn't miss the way her stomach rumbled. She frowned down at it, putting her hand over it. He shook his head before getting some leftover soup he'd had warmed up. She ate the entire thing, and he cut her off, telling her to rest. She needed that more than anything. When he'd washed the blood off, he'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She was skinnier than she had been when she'd left, and that worried him too. He knew he wasn't going anywhere for a while. He had a girl to watch over.
"Will you stay with me?" She asked, clutching to his sleeve as he tucked her into the sleeping bag.
"Maybe for a while."
She pulled him down, laying herself out over his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and she was out instantly. He knew he'd have to move before she woke up. Because if the drugs wore off by then, things would get ugly again if she woke up next to him. He took advantage of her drug-induced delirium to hold her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, knowing he wouldn't have this chance again anytime soon.
And he was right.
He'd gotten up, fixing himself dinner. He'd need to get food tomorrow. Having her gone was a wake up call for how much she actually did. Buying groceries, cleaning, making sure he was okay. The regret was hitting him hard, beating him over the head with a hammer. He should have brought her back. He should have at least followed her to make sure she was safe. He'd failed both of them, letting her go off like that. She didn't know how to defend herself. What was he thinking?
He was brought back to himself when he heard her groan lightly, the sleeping bag rustling a little as she moved. She whimpered, and he turned, moving so he could see her. She was curled up, only her head visible over the sleeping bag. Her eyes were half open, her chapped lips parted as she breathed.
She tried to speak, but ended up coughing, a deep, wet cough. Her inhale was scratchy, broken up by the phlegm in her throat and something flashed through his mind, a memory. His youngest sister had gotten sick one winter when she was barely old enough to walk. She had a nasty cough and could barely breathe...his 'Ma had called it...pneumonia. He didn't know what conditions she'd been in, but he could feel the panic starting to rise. She was warm, feverish. Maybe he'd have to get over his fear of hospitals, because she needed one. But she still had the drugs in her system. He could get medicine off the black market, but he was probably all over the black market. "Kill the Winter Soldier. Double if you bring him in alive. Extra if you bring his lackey best-girl who couldn't keep herself from getting hurt."
He still called them a couple. For now, while he still could. They were making such good progress. But now...now he wasn't sure. He didn't know what to expect when she worked the drugs through her system, and the reality hit her. But she might surprise him. Her drug induced mind had known enough to come back to him. That was reassuring. But it didn't make it any easier to process it. He wanted to go after them. He wanted to find them, and rip them apart. But she was more important. She needed him, and he wasn't going anywhere.