Love & Bullets (bucky barnes x oc)

22: Independent

-Begin Flashback-

The strong taste of metal fills your mouth as you slump back in your chair, feeling the blood oozing out of the bullet wound in your stomach.

James steps forward, keeping a stone-cold gaze on the Don with every step. There is a certain look in his eyes, but you can't quite put your finger on it, given everything going on.

"Oh, come on, Barnes. We were just having a bit of fun. Right, sweetheart?" The Don turns to you, flashing an evil smile through his bloodied teeth.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Don. I'm going to kill you for everything you did to her. I'm going to kill you for hurting her. For ever laying a dirty fucking hand on her."

James lunges forward, clasping his fingers around Don's neck and squeezing hard. He watches as he gasps for breaths and wastes no time in slamming him to the ground.

Now crouched on top of him, James raises his knuckles in the air, ready to strike. All the while, his gaze is fixed strongly on the Don.

"Do it. You... You won't."

Don's voice is shaky as he still struggles for air moments after James released his neck.

With one agonizing scream, James pounds his fists down onto the Don's face, his nose cracking open with the first punch. The sound of Don's cries and James' grunts fill the room, and you gasp in complete and utter shock. You can't find the strength to say anything, and all you can do is watch with teary eyes as James slams his fists repeatedly into Don's skull.

Into the skull of the man you once loved.

The blood-curdling sound of bones cracking with each punch make you shudder from where you are sitting, unable to say or do anything. The pain in your side gets worse with each passing second.

"I'M. GOING. TO. FUCKING. KILL. YOU!"

As he proceeds to break Don's face, you finally pinpoint the look in James's eyes. He looks... satisfied. Like he's enjoying every bit of it. Like he doesn't see you writhing in pain in the corner. Like killing Don is more important than anything else. He looks pleased with his messy job. But most of all, he doesn't seem to care about the blood dripping down his knuckles. The Don's blood.

He finally stops and stands up, wiping his hands on his Alexander McQueen dress pants. Looking down, he admires the view. The Don lays there, bloody, hunched over, and definitely dead. His skull is practically cracked open from all of the punching, blood pouring out of virtually every inch of his skin. And yet, James doesn't even flinch at the sight. Instead, he waves his hand and Rogers carries him out of sight, closing the warehouse door behind him.

Even after wiping his hands on his dress pants, streaks of bright red still cover his fingers. Not that he even notices. It's as if killing is second nature to him. Like he feels absolutely no remorse.

When he finally rushes to your side, you give in to the stinging pain in your stomach and cry in his shoulder. Before you can even grasp what just happened, your body gives in to the darkness and your eyes flutter closed, seeing nothing but black.

-End of Flashback-

Hot tears pour down your cheeks, hitting the cold, hard floor. Being locked in the bedroom for over twelve hours now, you look around yet again in search of a window. There must be one.