The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

53

TW: domestic abuse (if you don't feel comfortable reading this chapter, just comment below and I will sum it up for you)
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I think my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Or maybe I just hoped it would. Dying would be so much easier than facing what just happened.

My mom just caught me making out with a guy. She saw me being pressed against a wall and me unbuckling his belt. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Please let this be a sick twisted dream.
Where is Thanos when you need him?

"Inside. Now." She can't even look me in the eyes. She's completely disgusted by me. Why do I feel cheap? I fix my hair and my smudged lipstick, then try to find my keys in my bag. My hands are shaking and my vision starts to get blurry out of anxiety.

"Hey." Bucky whispers and takes my hands to calm me down. "Stay calm."

My mom turned her back against me and is now facing the door, impatiently tapping the floor with her foot.

"She is going to kill me." I start crying, trying my very best to keep my voice down. "Please don't make me talk to her, please. I am scared."

"You don't have to talk with her. It's your decision."

"What is taking so long?" She suddenly yells, making me jerk away from Bucky. He looks so worried which isn't exactly helping me right now. I swipe away my tears and then turn to my mother.

"I'm coming." I hate how weak and vulnerable I sound. I take one last glance at Bucky before walking towards my apartment, unlocking the door and letting her in. After I enter, she aggressively shuts the door. "Mom, before you-"

Slap.
Slap.
She just slapped me.
She never did that.
She never slapped me.

I place my hand against my cheek, not fully understanding what just happened.

"Mom-" Tears start pooling in my eyes.

"Do not talk unless you're spoken to!" She yells and points her finger at me. "We allowed you to study here so you could focus on college. On your education! But instead you're... toying with random men?"

"He's not a random man." I defend myself.

"I don't care! I don't care who he is! All I care about is that I come visiting my daughter and find her whoring herself out!"

There's a sting in my heart. "That's now what I was doing."

"Oh, really? Because the daughter I raised would never engage in such activities! This is not how I raised you. I didn't raise a slut."

Ouch. Fucking ouch. I can't hold my tears back anymore but I also don't want to cry in front of her so I turn my face away.

"What? Can't look at me? Are you embarrassed? Good. You should be embarrassed." She continues to insult me. I don't think she was ever this mad at me. We had many arguments but she never yelled at me like this. She never insulted me. And she definitely never slapped me across the face. "Come on! Look at yourself!" She grabs the back of my head and pulls me to the bathroom.

"Mom, stop! It hurts." I cry out. Her grip tightens and she holds my face against the mirror in the bathroom.

"Look at yourself! Look!"

I do. My lipstick is still smudged, the upper buttons of my blouse are ripped open, my hair is messy and there are red spots on my neck from where he kissed me. I hate that she is making me feel this way. I did nothing wrong. I made out with my boyfriend. A guy that I am in a committed relationship with. Yet she makes me feel cheap and easy.
I try to free myself from her grip. "Please, stop. It hurts. I am sorry. But please stop."