Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Chapter Thirty-Four

When you live as a caged animal, time becomes very abstract. You lose track of whether it's day or night, what day of the week it is, how much time has gone by since you've been put in the cage. Your sanity slowly starts chipping away, little by little. The light of your soul begins to dim, like a flame starved of oxygen.

There are many things people tend to take for granted. Being able to get fresh air, picking out your clothes, choosing what you want for dinner. A caged animal however, has none of those liberties. A caged animal survives, but fails to thrive in its environment.

Over time, memories begin to fade. You start to forget the way someone's voice sounds. You forget how they smell, what it felt like to be embraced by them. Soon enough, it's like they're purely a figment of imagination. It's difficult to fathom them being real.

The memories that do stick around play in your mind like a rerun of a television show. Always the same few episodes, never anything new.

The pain calluses over until you feel nothing at all. Hurt and pain fade into nothingness, love and adoration turn to hurt and pain. There comes a time when you have no tears left to cry, and when that time comes you know you're just a shell of what once was. There's no life in your eyes anymore, there's nothing to keep you going. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Fluorescent lights are a constant reminder of imprisonment. They offer no warmth or comfort, only coldness and artificiality.

I roll over on the hard structure that can barely be considered a bed and face the wall. I close my eyes and hug myself, my fingertips cold from the air conditioning. I quickly realized that blankets are not permitted in here, it would be a good tool for someone to use if they wanted to be free from this world. Instead, we all have to rely on our own body heat and the thin uniform to keep us warm. I haven't felt warmth since the day I got here.

I estimate that I've been here for about a month, but it's getting harder and harder for me to keep track. Days blur into one another, there is no way to tell time in here.

I hear the slot in my door open and reluctantly get up to grab the tray before they throw it on the floor. I grab the cold metal tray and sit on my bed, crossing my legs. I look at the options and realize just like all the other times, the food looks questionably beige. But I have no other choice. I choke down the bland and discolored food and place my tray by the door for collection.

I look out at the other cells, seeing everyone else going through the same motions. Just like every other time. I cast my gaze to the small television screen that usually plays the same program constantly, but notice the program has changed. My eyebrows pull together as I watch the screen, the headline is bold.

"Avengers Face Punishment for Sokovia." I whisper to myself, my voice raspy from not being used. I watch as I see the newscaster explain what's going on. I read the subtitles carefully,

"United Nations to reach agreement on how the Avengers will now operate. Resolution expected in the next year." I say. Maybe Tony will get what's coming to him. Someone should be held accountable for Sokovia, and Tony is the only one who I place the blame on. The news station switches to another story.

I wonder what will happen. I still don't know whether Bruce has been found or not. I'd like to think he has. I see one of the guards walk up to my cell and tap on the glass,

"Those your friends? They all deserve to rot for what they did." I'm taken aback by the comment.

"Only some of them friends." I respond, finding my voice.

"Maybe some of them will be coming to join you after all." The guard chuckles as he walks off to the next cell. He's always been one to heckle us. Seeing a familiar face would be nice, but I wouldn't wish for anyone but Tony to be in here.