the escapees || bucky barnes

I: the burning

Pain. That was all I could feel. My hands felt as though they were being burned to a crisp, a fire crackling below them. I could feel the scars already making their marks on my skin, an imprint that would be there forever.

The man stoking the fire next to me was laughing, his eyes filled with murderous glee. The fun he was having hurting me was insane. When I screamed, it just made his laughing grow louder.

A door on the opposite side of the room opened, letting a tall, cold-looking male come in. His black outfit bore the sign of HYDRA on it, and my screaming was cut short. He was my torturer, and I wasn't allowed to be weak when I was near him, otherwise he would hurt me more than before. Not having any more pain was the most important thing to me at the moment, figuring the amount I was already in.

"Well," the tall man spoke, his gloved hands grabbing me by the chin. "our little escapee has found out what happens to those who try to leave. Maybe we should let her know that she belongs to us. Permanently."

The old man stoking the fire smiled even wider and took out a rod. The metal had an insignia of HYDRA on one end, and I grimaced at the image. The rod was placed into the fire below me, it's end quickly being heated to a red-hot level. The gloved man grabbed me by my hair, pulling my head back far enough for me to not interfere, but not far enough for me to not see what they were about to do.

"And don't close your eyes," he sneered. "Or there will be more pain."

Then, I felt the hot feeling of the rod on my right arm. Biting back a scream, I let the men press the insignia onto me, knowing more pain would be coming if I struggled. When the immediate heat went away, I was released. I could see the place they had burned in the mark, the skin an angry red.

"Come, Frost. You belong to us now. You will obey, or else," the tall man grabbed me by the arm, dragging me out of the room.

The other, older man looked at me and my torturer exit through the door he came from, and he saluted, "Hail HYDRA."

I woke in a cold sweat, tangled in sheets. I grabbed my knife from my nightstand, the silver blade slightly shining in the moonlight. When no direct threats were obvious, I set the dagger back down on the table. I pulled my phone from the same table and turned it on, my intentions being to look at the time. I turned it off, then on again. I had forgotten to look at the clock, which read 2:56 am.

I groaned, knowing that I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Why would I want to, anyway? My slumber was always plagued with nightmares and memories, much like what had just happened. I always woke up thinking that someone was in my apartment, coming to take me back to the one place I'd escaped.

I shook off my unsettling thoughts and pushed myself out of bed. I really wanted to go get a cappuccino, but Starbucks didn't open until six, leaving me to drink some tea until it opened. I walked over to the door of my room, but not before pulling back my platinum blonde hair. Knowing the compound, there would be at least one person up at this time, though it was usually Tony. He seemed to get as much sleep as me, which was only about four hours every other night.

When I stepped outside my room, I was almost immediately hit with the boiling hot air. I was forced to take off my sweatshirt. I wasn't used to the warm air, due to the fact that Siberia was where I was kept. That was about the farthest thing you could get from warm.

"Dammit, Tony," I grumbled. "You couldn't turn down the heat for the night?"

I threw the MIT sweatshirt I had stolen from Tony back into my room, being stuck in a t-shirt and workout shorts. My body temperature cooled quickly, giving me a slight break from the annoying heat of late New York summers. I had been here for almost two years, and the summers were almost as unbearable as Steve's blindness of tech. The latter made very funny YouTube videos, though.