Tear in My Heart

2

Your fingers drummed relentlessly against the steering wheel as you drove, your anxiety coming out in small ticks. You pulled up to the spot where the man had been, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw that he was still there.  Pulling up to the curb, you quickly hopped out, rushing over to the man.

"Okay, can you stand?" You asked, hesitantly placing your hand on his right arm.

He nodded tersely, using the railing of the bridge for support as you helped him off the ground. "You really shouldn't help me." He said through gritted teeth, grimacing as you helped him into your passenger seat.

"You said that already." You replied flatly, rolling your eyes. It was too late to turn back now, and strangely, you didn't feel any regret about your actions. You climbed into the drivers side, turning the car on before racing back to the medical facility. During the day, the parking lot was full of patients -which is why you always parked a few blocks away in a parking garage- but now, the lot was completely empty as you pulled around the back of the building.

"Wait here." You said quietly, your heart pounding with the adrenaline fueled rush of adventure. "I'll bring out a wheelchair." 

"No I can walk." The man protested, beginning to ease himself out of the car.

"Nonsense stay here." You scolded, locking the door to keep him in. He sighed in resignation and you hurried off.

"What did I get myself into?" You muttered, fumbling to unlock the door. You scanned your card to get in, knowing if anyone checked the system, they'd know who came in. The first thing you did was walk into the control room and shut off the security system, disabling the cameras. If he decided to attack you now, no one would know. You grabbed a wheelchair and headed back into the parking lot, helping the man climb into the chair before wheeling him inside.

You helped him onto the exam table, instructing him to lie down as you prepared your instruments.
"What's your name?" You asked curiously, seeing him in the light for the first time. He looked even worse than you'd thought. His face was pale and marred with cuts and gashes, the wounds crisscrossing over his cheek like some sick design. By now, his shirt was soaked in blood, and his leg was clearly broken. Something else caught your attention though, a glint of metal reflecting off of his left arm. As you studied it closer, you realized that his entire left arm was a prosthetic. A -from the looks of it- highly advance prosthetic. You wondered if perhaps he had been in the military. You'd treated a lot of soldiers with prosthetic limbs, but none nearly this advanced.

He looked up at you, his long hair finally moving to reveal piecing blue eyes, "Bucky." He said, seemingly after much deliberation. "I think."

I think? You wondered in your thoughts. You're not sure of your own name? To you, that was nothing more than a sign of a concussion. You made a mental note to check for uneven pupils and bruising on the brain.

"Ok, I'm going need you to take your shirt off." You stated plainly, you were used to the awkwardness of asking patients to remove clothing by now.

You watched with sympathy as he attempted to pull the shirt over his head, wincing with pain every time he lifted his hands above his head. He looked at you helplessly, with all the embarrassment of someone who isn't used to being helpless. You could see the pain in his eyes, and somehow, you sensed it went deeper than the physical wounds.

"It's ok." You comforted, walking over with a pair of scissors. "I can just cut it off, it might work better anyways." You mused, considering the blood was beginning to make the cloth stick. You cut a straight line up the shirt, carefully peeling it away from his wounds. He watched you warily, as if expecting you to be horrified by what you found.