Philophobia (Bucky x Reader)

Chapter 1

You were 10 years old and you were watching the neighborhood kids play baseball in a field a couple blocks down from your house. The only kids playing were boys, which pissed you off.

Your parents were hesitant to let you go play with other kids by yourself since they know you have issues when things don't go your way. Nevertheless, they decided to let you go, in hopes that it would help you make friends and help you learn to socialize with other kids.

You've always been a troubled kid. You have serious issues when it comes to your anger. You get mad at the smallest things. One time your little brother broke your favorite stuffed animal and you tried to fight him. You didn't get very far before your mother stopped you, but you could've done a lot of damage. You were only four.

Little things like that is what made your parents concerned for your mental well being. They took you to a psychiatrist. They did a bunch of tests on you to examine your behavior. They determined that you have some kind of explosive behavior disorder, but it's much more extreme than any other case they've ever encountered. According to the doctors, you couldn't help your outbursts. However, they did inform your parents that the best way to help control your temper was to help her grow connections with other people. That was the hard part. You hated people, and in return, people didn't really want to hang out with you. The one thing that would help you overcome your temper, was your least favorite thing to do. It was a vicious cycle. You didn't care though, you had yourself and that's all you needed. At least that's what you thought.

As you continued watching the boys play, you started to walk closer to where they were playing. You skipped the line where a bunch of kids were waiting to bat. You noticed one kid walking up to the home plate for his turn but you pushed him aside and picked up the baseball bat from the ground.

"Hey! It's my turn!" the boy whined.

"Can it, butt breath!" you spat.

You got yourself into position to hit the ball but the pitcher started walking towards you. He was about your height, heavyset, blonde hair, and freckles all over his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked with amusement in his tone as the boys around him started laughing.

"I'm playing baseball, now why don't you go back over there and pitch me the ball?!" you said impatiently.

"Girls don't play baseball! Get out of here!" he yelled with an ugly smile on his face.

You felt your skin start to boil. All you wanted to do was rip that boy's skin off his face and stuff it where the sun don't shine.

You closed your eyes and started to count your breaths, an exercise your therapist taught you to do when you're angry.

"What are you doing, freak?!" the fat boy chuckled.

"Pitch. Me. The. Ball!" you seethed through your teeth, still absolutely furious at the boy.

"I don't pitch to bitches!" he said and all his little friends started laughing and agreeing.

You snapped. With the baseball bat in hand, you hit him across the head with resulted in him falling to the ground and everyone around you chanting 'fight, fight, fight!'.

You continued to beat the shit out of him. You couldn't stop yourself. You were so angry. Your eyes were filled with hate and rage as you continued to bash the baseball bat against the bully who was starting to bleed. He begged you stop but you didn't, you couldn't. It wasn't until some adult broke up the fight that you stopped hitting him across the head.

To you, the rest of that night was a blur. You remember hearing ambulance sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, and your parents crying after they heard the news about what you did.