Forever. (A Bucky Barnes fanfiction)

Chapter 2.

"I looked through the window on the right wall that lets you be able to see into the cell next to you and I saw Mack face down in the floor. I immediately ruled out murder because I had just conversed with him and The door to his room never opened, and even if someone had opened his door as silently as a mouse, I'd know. I looked around at his room some more and saw a tiny drop of sweat on the edge of his nightstand, so the cause of Mack's death was suicide. He hit his head repeatedly onto the edge of the nightstand in such a manner that didn't break his forehead enough for a rush of blood, but caused enough brain damage for him to fall into the ground and lay silently there, foaming at the mouth and dying for hours, until he just died. I never heard the banging because the nightstand is bolted to the floor, there is nothing on it, and it is so solid that it definitely wouldn't make a sound. And if I'm correct, if you rolled his body over to be facing up, you would find his forehead completely concave." I tell the police officer through the small window, he looks genuinely surprised that I'm not acting stereotypically crazy. He turns around and motions for two forensics officers to turn Mack's body over, they do, and everyone in his cell grimaces at the sight of his bashed in forehead. I'm not affected by it, because I've seen many of my fellow residents get creative with killing themselves, when you don't have access to more traditional method resources such as a gun or a rope, and your medication taking is monitored, you're forced to improvise a way to escape this hellhole. Candace's Cradle Mental Asylum, fifth "safest" asylum in the nation, third "friendliest" and seventh most "well mannered" yeah right. I stare at Mack's body, my body welling up with pity for him, a policeman smiles sympathetically at me. "I'm sorry for your loss." He says, quite quietly to avoid the head investigator hearing him. I nod at him and smile a little bit, just to make him go away. Sure, I knew Mack, and sure, we got along pretty well, But I always knew something was going to happen to him, he was a sixteen year old kid in a mental asylum, who had schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, and paranoia, he was never going to make it in here, so it wasn't really a loss to me..though I do feel a growing mass of anger towards his parents for putting him in here, as if looking him up with other "crazies" would magically cure his conditions. Mack was just a kid, a kid who needed his parents support and presence to get him through life, I think that's the biggest tragedy of his death, he didn't have to die. Two forensic officers zip up Mack into a body bag and the lead investigator tips his hat at me as everyone starts to file out of the room. This is annoying, the politeness of everyone, I know it's fake, they couldn't care less about Mack or anyone in this place. The investigator comes up to the little window separating my cell from Mack and I make a guess his name is Andrew, "what's your name?" He asks me "why?" I ask cautiously, he smiles but it comes off a little creepy. "I just wanna know." He says, oh..so he's hitting on me. Wow. "Sarah." I state my name. "It's good to meet you Sarah, I'm Andrew." Knew it. "Do the men in here give you a hard time? I mean like, rape wise and sexual assault?" He asks me, oh so he's wondering about sex, what a classy guy. I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes at him. "No. They know not to mess with me." I say firmly, in an aggressive tone, hoping he'll take the hint. "Why shouldn't they mess with you?" "Because I'm stronger than all the men in here, and my anxiety, paranoia, general insanity and the fact that I can light them on fire with my hands are not a good mix to deal with." I say, he smirks, why won't he give up? "Are you that good at handjobs?" He asks, what a dunce! How could a police force ever hire such a pervertic idiot? "No, I can literally.." I reach my finger through the space and touch a strand of his hair, in seconds it ignites. "Set things on fire with my hands." I finish, and watch him spin around the room, trying to snuff out the flames, I start laughing hysterically and crazily as he panics and grabs a glass of water Mack never drank, and pours it over his head, my flames are indestructible though, so I just move my finger slightly while I laugh, and the flame goes out. He look ridiculous, his burnt hair drenched in old water, dripping off of him onto his expensive coat. He points at me angrily. "BITCH!" He shouts loudly, which makes me laugh even harder, my stomach hurts from laughing so much, but I can't stop myself. He storms out of the cell, and I immediately cease laughter, and lay down on my uncomfortable hospital style bed. That's how you get rid of an unwanted man, set him on fire.