Warnings for graphic depictions of weird stuff. Rated M for mentions of abuse and graphic details of horror hallucinations.
"Right this way sir." The nurse hurried the young man down through the permanent residents ward. He was the new healer, fresh out of medical school, and his first patient was to be the most messed up one.
She was twisted and evil, or so they described her, a murderous witch psychotically inclined. Forces had arrived to find her painting the walls. The blood of her family the same colour as her hair. She'd been laughing, stark naked and laughing, her parents bodies lying lifeless in their beds and her younger siblings clutching close their dead children. Unnerved and wary they took her into custody. Not a sound had escaped her lips since that night. Well, except the screaming.
At night she screamed. Tortured by visions of that day. It was the guilt they told him. The guilt that had driven her insane. He wasn't so sure. She avoided physical contact like the plague and direct address had her clawing at her ears and wailing in distress, heaven forbid anyone touch her stuff.
They approached the last door. It was plain white and appeared simple and bland. He knew there was an inch of steel reinforcements though. The nurse drew in a breath before plastering a smile on her face and knocking firmly on the door.
"Natasha dear, there's someone here to see you. Can we come in?" When silence was all that greeted them, the nurse pushed down the handle and pulled back the bolt. The door swung open and revealed the petite red head.
It was a nice room. Sort of. The walls were plain as were the sheets but there was a bright green plant sitting on the sill. The large French Windows overlooked the clustered houses that overflowed the town. They didn't open though. Precautionary security measure.
"Natasha, this is Bucky. He's going to be your new healer." She didn't move. Her eyes remained focused on a point on the wall. The only indication that she'd heard was by the twitching of her fingers. "I'll leave you two to it." The nurse shut the door behind her.
Bucky took the seat meant for visitors and simply observed. She didn't move. She didn't make a sound. Neither of them did.
His presence was suffocating her. It was like a blanket smothering her senses. She couldn't cope with it. His ashy scent and sandalwood aroma had her nerves ticking overtime. It was so male. His whole being, right down to the neatly laced oxfords, reeked of maleness. His stubble chin and 'cool' careless short hair. She hated it.
Flashes of that night came to her. That same sandalwood smell and perfect leather oxfords. That same long fringe that tickled with every breath. Then he spoke and his voice was a low bass, humming with knowledge. She HATED it! His piercing eyes reminded her of another's. His choking scent smothered her like another's had. His polished oxfords squeaked against the floor just like another's did. It was all just like another who'd been apart of that dreadful night. He came close. Too close and so she screamed.
Everything about him overlapped with everything about that other until they became one. The day and that night clashed together in a broiling of twisted memories until she couldn't tell what was up and what was down. Her hands were clamped viciously over her ears as she tried to block out the noise of his laugh. The noise of his voice as he hissed in his pleasure. She couldn't tell whether she was screaming or whether it was her family as they were tortured and murdered before her streaming eyes.
The bang of the door and sliding of the bolt pulled her out of her attack. She went silent and stared at that same point on the wall like nothing had happened.
Outside Bucky leant heavily on the door. That had been intense. Extremely intense. Luckily it wasn't for naught as his notes about her actions and triggers would be adequate for starting him off. He studied psychology for a reason, so he could pick up on people's tells. She was interesting, a challenge he would enjoy cracking.
