BLOOD MUST HAVE BLOOD
CHAPTER 28 of Blood Must Have Blood (AO3 links)
Links on tumblr; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27
Summery of fic: Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess come face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
Pairing (kinda): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Nate Millers (OMC) x Reader
Words: 7894
Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon/noncon elements, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, implied sexual acts, sexual acts, mention of murder, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of NC/SA and death, mentions of blood
You have been warned.
Chapter 28
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You were stood in the pill-line, waiting to get the batch of painkillers you desperately needed for several different reasons, but would have to trade away for your safety. With a tensed-up body, aching wrist and now again burning core from having to sit on such a hard surface at the cafeteria, your nerves were begging for a relief, however fleeting.
But that meant having to risk your own safety by not giving Pennsatucky what she wanted, something she had all but ordered you to do. And you were good at following orders and doing what you were told. And this was no exception.
“Next,” nurse Banner said from where he was stood behind the glass.
You walked up to the front, trying to tone back the stiffness of your body, and cover up your paleness with a smile, however tight it may be.
“Hi,” you said, trying to sound chipper, and not at all like you were falling apart.
“Ah, Harper,” he said joyfully, and grabbed your cup of meds. “How are we feeling tonight?”
He held out the small paper cup for you to take, and you willed your hand not to shake as you reached for it, the reason unclear. It was hard to distinguish what was causing you such worry and pain, you had many possible reasons to chose from. But now was not the time to get hung up on those matters. Now, you had to do what was asked, and put up a front.
“I’m alright, thank you, sir.”
You put the cup to your mouth as Bruce turned to scratch something off his list. He didn’t notice you lifting your tongue up before leaning your head back and tilting the cup for the pills to fall into the cavity. Giving a quick quirk of your mouth to him, you took the small cup of water and poured it into your mouth, swallowing it on its own. You showed him your seemingly empty mouth, and shut it with a smile.
“Thank you,” he said, and tossed the cups into the trash. “See you in the morning, Harper.”
It was a good thing you rarely spoke more than what was needed, even before. Because when you only gave the kind nurse a smile and nothing more, he didn’t think anything of it, and just smiled back, sending you on your way.
Rounding a corner, you spit the pills out into your hand, drying them off on your shirt before quickly hiding them in a pocket. You looked around, making sure that no one saw, and started heading towards the area you dreaded the most; the laundry.
You hadn’t been down there since it happened. The bag full of laundry was still hanging from a hook in your cube, waiting to be washed and traded for new. But you just hadn’t been able to face it before. You still weren’t ready. If you had the choice, you would never see the inside of that room ever again. But you had to go. You had to find Pennsatucky and give her what she had asked for, hoping it would be enough to get her off your back, as well as her followers/squad.
Slowly but surely, despite your insistent prayers to the higher powers, you found yourself staring at the doors to the laundry room. You could see shapes moving in the room, shadows hidden behind the wall of washers which had so effectively hidden what happened to you.
It was just another barrier. You knew it had been more than the doors to the laundry, or the wall of machines that had kept the secret. It was all the locked gates, all the doors and winding corridors, in the middle of the night, that had. The officers had planned it that way. So, it wasn’t just the machines. That’s what you told yourself.
Trying to focus on that as to not crumble when being there, in that room, just made for a change of scenery in your head. The worry didn’t leave. The building panic didn’t leave. It was now just focused on the big picture, instead of the small, isolated room. And that wasn’t better. It didn’t make it any easier to forget. It didn’t make it any easier to handle.
You stood there, frozen on the spot, staring at the doors. If it were up to you, you would turn around and make a run for it. Or, walk as fast as you could at least. Running wasn’t really an option in the near future. But one of the inmates, a brown-haired girl with equally greasy hair as the rest of the bunch, peeked around the machines and spotted you. If you turned around now, you would be in even more trouble than before, and that was something you really didn’t need.
You swallowed through the dryness of your throat and mouth, hoping to force down the worry with it, but failed miserably. You hoped to at least not fail in the next endeavour, and pushed the door open.
Inside was Pennsatucky, Grease Hair, and... other Grease Hair. Let’s call her Grease Hair the second. Pennsatucky sat perched on a table, dangling her legs of the edge and a grin on her smile, while the other two paced around. They seemed restless, excited.
But you were a mess inside. The panic was boiling just from being in that room, from seeing Doggett sitting so leisurely on the table where you had been so violently bent over and held down while the officers had their way with you, the wood soaked with your tears. It was such a comic contrast. And the irony of this exchange taking place here, again, was not lost on you.
“You got what I asked for?” Doggett asked, bringing you somewhat out of the fog.
You looked up at her, your fearful and worried expression hopefully apt in this situation, and felt for the pills in your pocket.
“Ye-yes,” you stuttered in a low voice.
Pennsatucky hopped off the table with glee and walked up to you. Her grin was growing even wider, and it reached its peak when you held out your open palm, two pills resting there. She giggled and took them from you.
“Thank you,” she said, raising the ‘you’ up to a high pitch.
She turned around, and the others saw the content of her hand.
“Just two?” Grease Hair said, looking at you accusingly.
“Th-that’s all they give me,” you said, taking a small step back, wanting to keep the distance.
Her annoyance was bringing that evening back, full steam ahead. It was so reminiscent. Every emotion coming from them, everything from within you was coming closer and closer to the surface, replaying that horrible night. You had to hold on, just for a little longer.
“But they give you more, right?” Pennsatucky said, looking up from admiring the pills in her hand.
Your eyes were filling up with salty water, you throat was clogging up.
“I... I-I get some in the mornings.”
Your voice was slowly betraying you, hiding away inside your chest. Your shoulders were reaching higher and higher, almost hiding you between them. There was no part of you that wanted to be there, all of you remembered what had happened last time. Everything was screaming inside of you for you to get out of there, get somewhere safe.
“Good,” Doggett said, startling you where you stood trying not to cave in on yourself. “Then you can bring me those too.”
“Please...” you didn’t know what compelled you to even try, but you did. “I n-need them. Just... one. Please? I-I’m in a lot of p-pain...”
Doggett moved with quick steps, coming face to face with you as she invaded your personal space, her energy strong despite her stature.
“I’ll make sure you’ll be in even more pain of you don’t shut that cocksuckin’ mouth of yours, and hand over those pills!”
You gasped and trembled, but stayed put. It wasn’t so much out of will, but more that you just couldn’t bring yourself to move. Looking away from Pennsatucky, you could see the other girls also keeping their distance, seemingly not all that comfortable with the anger, but relieved it was not aimed at them.
“If you don’t give me those pills, I will cut you open like a Christmas ham,” she said, voice calmer but no less serious. “Think your kind, generous, hunks of officers can save you from that? Hmm?”
She was mocking you. She even turned her body enough to invite the other two into the conversation, but they only smiled and let her keep on. And she didn’t even notice how you flinched with each praising word used to describe the men who assaulted you.
“’Cause I don’t,” she said, like you were simply discussing if the weather was going to be nice. “Because... I have my ways. And my ways are no less than creative, no less than inventive. And no matter how many times you fuck officer Barnes, or officer Rogers, or whoever else it may be... No matter how much cum you guzzle down... they won’t always be there.”
Doggett raised her brows at you, her face contorted into feigned concern. It almost looked like she was looking out for you with what she was saying. But the truth was the clear opposite.
“So... I say... You hand over those pills, and do so with joy—” she said with a grin. “—and we won’t have a problem. How’s that sound?”
There was nothing you wanted more than to sink through the floor, through the grounds of the earth and just be eaten whole by its core. Then it would be no more pain, no more fear, no more threats. Then there would be nothing. You would be nothing.
“Okay...”
Again, you had to let yourself take a mental, emotional and phycological beating to avoid a physical one. And the logic of that was becoming more and more unclear. Physical pain was fleeting, it was momentary. This, what you were feeling now... was not. Yet you had again made the conscious choice to add to it.
“Alrighty then,” Doggett said with glee. “We’ll see ya tomorrow then.”
She walked past you, close enough to bump into your shoulder. The pain resonated down to your wrist, and you couldn’t help but groan. The others, Grease Hair one and two, both gave you a lop-sided smile when they heard it, before following Pennsatucky out the door. Leaving you alone. No one cared about your pain.
Breathing was becoming harder by the second. Your heart was trying to break through the bones of your chest, ripping through your flesh. Everything tensed up, everything shook and trembled, enough to send you reeling to the floor. With gasping breaths, you scooted back and back and back until you hit the wall behind you. You forced your knees up towards your chest as high as you could, wrapping your arms around them and squeezed as much as you could with one good arm. It didn’t help. It didn’t stop it. It was still happening.
The room was closing in. The walls were coming closer, the table was getting higher where it stood beside you, dwarfing you where you sat huddled in the corner. The wall of washing machines was building higher, wider, blocking everything. Blocking you. Caging you in.
Flashes of memories appeared, so vivid you could see it all before you. How Steve threw you against those very machines. How he had held you when Bucky pressed the taser into your abdomen and sent shocks of searing pain through you. How Bucky send you careening into the wall where they mocked you, threatened you, teased you. And for a moment, just a short moment, you even saw how you fought back. When you found some fire inside that made you kick your leg out, making contact with Bucky’s leg. How you didn’t give up. How you fought.
But the images of you being thrown over a table... Forced down by an easy grip on your neck... And how your trousers and underwear where torn away to expose your private parts, revealed the opposite. When you gave up. When you stopped fighting. When you shattered.
Tears were streaming down your face as you rocked back and forth like a crazy person. Every time you exhaled you let out a dark groan, a cry for any sort of help to make it all stop. But it didn’t come. It never came.
It wasn’t new. It wasn’t new to you, to have any of those things happen. It wasn’t something you hadn’t heard before, or felt before. It just kept coming. It just kept happening. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you fought against it, it just kept happening. It never stopped. It was never going to stop...
And now people knew. People had seen what had happened to you, what you let happen to you. They had seen your shame, seen you faulter. They had seen how worthless you were, how shameful and stupid. Every mark on your body might be on display somewhere, more than what you were constantly carrying around with you and trying to keep hidden from the light.
You had always tried to hide the stories written so boldly on your skin. Each one told its own tale, carried its own hatred and pain. They were the pieces. Your life was the puzzle. And in your mind, you carried the finished picture. There was nothing you wanted more than to have a different puzzle to put together. A different picture to look at. Something that didn’t tell of hurt, and blood, and pain.
But what you had so tirelessly kept hidden from view, kept safe from everybody else, kept to yourself to keep you from falling apart, had now been broadcasted to the world. There was light shone on it, it was under a magnifying glass, put under scrutiny. It was real. It was everywhere.
The flashing images didn’t stop either. It was a whole marathon of punches, kicks, cuts, blood and rape being replayed inside your mind. And every possible time it could happen again, just for good measure, was played there too. Anyone could hurt you like that again. Any man who ever got close to you could rape you. Again. There was no escaping from it. There was no stopping it from happening again. No matter what you did... you got hurt.
Your ears were so taken by the sounds coming from your mouth that they failed to register the opening of the doors, or the footsteps of the approaching officer. Nothing warned you of his presence, before his voice startled you out of your panic.
“Are you hurt?”
You gasped. Your eyes flew to the dark and handsome officer standing a few feet away, his kind eyes now lined with worry as you looked up at him. Unconsciously you pressed back even more against the wall, your mind working through every possible outcome of this encounter, and none ended well for you.
“I...I...”
You couldn’t speak. Your voice had escaped and left only the tension of your vocal cords, now choking any sound you tried to make. Nothing clear could come out, only hiccupping shudders and groans.
Officer Wilson took another step closer, but he seemed aware of how easily you spooked, and kept his distance.
“Inmate, are you hurt?” he tried again, louder than before.
This time he got a shake of your head as a response. You took a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. You repeated the same procedure again and again, and eventually the tears stopped falling, and your chest stopped bobbing like a cork in the water and actually drew breath deep enough to be calming.
“N-no, I...” you breathed deeply. “I am f-fine, s-sir. I’m fine.”
The easiest lie you could tell. Such easy words to say. Yet they held so much meaning.
The officer nodded once, still keeping on his side of the room.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, that’s good.”
You wanted so bad to close your eyes and just breathe, just let the panic settle and disappear to the back of your mind where it always slept soundly, but you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the man standing in front of you. Was he going to hurt you? He seemed to have other intentions, but there was no trusting that. You couldn’t trust anyone, let alone your own mind.
“Could you please stand up for me?” Sam asked softly, but was ready should you try anything.
This wasn’t his first time handling an upset or crazed inmate, and he knew the dangers that could come with it. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Standing felt like a hike up Mount Everest but eventually you got there. Afterall, you had to do what the man told you to do. Your legs were weak and stiff, and threatened multiple times to quit on you. But you stayed standing. With tear streaked cheeks and red eyes you stayed standing, watching the officer as he watched you.
“Okay,” he said, his voice still soft and gentle. “Do you have anything on you?”
“N-no, sir,” you said with a shaky but still stable voice.
The panic was simmering down. Soon there was only the aftermath left, the traces scorched everywhere; your mind, your emotions, your body. You were shot to hell, and wanted nothing more than to sleep, and not feel anymore. But you still had to face the obstacle standing in front of you. And like clockwork, the build of another kind of panic was back.
Sam nodded slowly and visibly relaxed when you held your hands somewhat away from your body to show that you were no threat to him. What he couldn’t see, was the turmoil going on inside your head, still calculating the threat of him.
“Okay,” he said, which was apparently his favourite word. “I just need to check to make sure that you don’t have anything on you. Turn around, and face the wall.”
He was going to hurt you. It was going to happen again, in this very room. You were so sure of it, sure that the officer was doing to hurt you, was going to do harm to your body, in one way or the other. But you didn’t have it in you to even try to fight it. The light was gone. The fire was out. So, you did as he said. You turned around, facing the wall, and prepared yourself for what was to come.
“Hands on the wall,” Sam said, his voice tighter than before.
You did as he instructed, and your shaky hands found the coarseness of the wall. He walked up to you, you could feel his presence as he approached, then feeling him put a hand between your shoulders to keep you put. Your body froze as your mind went blank, simply waiting for it to be over. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you would let him. Because that was the best thing to do. It was the easiest.
But the officer’s hands simply patted gently around your body, checking your pockets, feeling for any hidden objects anywhere on your person, and when he found none, he simply let you go.
“Alright,” he said, and backed away from you. “I just had to make sure you weren’t gonna hurt yourself, or anyone else for that matter.”
You didn’t move. You stayed there, hand against the wall with your eyes closed, still prepared for what was to come. It wasn’t over. But he didn’t do anything else. He didn’t touch you anywhere else, or even as much as shoved you against the wall. He had let you go.
“You’re not in trouble, Harper,” Sam said to the back of your head, waiting for any kind of response.
Not in trouble. There was no way for you to be sure of that, but what you did know was that the officer wasn’t touching you anymore. He wasn’t hurting you. Now. He might hurt you later, but not now. Perhaps it was too risky at the moment. Perhaps he preferred to do it during the night, when there were less people around that could see. That could stop him. That could help you. But he wasn’t doing it now. Now, you were safe.
You let your hands fall from the wall, and you slowly turned around. You kept your eyes down, scolding yourself for having faced him before. You should know better than to do that. Should know better than to look a man in the eyes, challenging him like that. You should know better.
Sam didn’t leave just yet. He was still worried about you. You didn’t look fine, no matter how many times you said it, there was no evidence of that fact. It looked like you were barely breathing, which you weren’t, and the parts of your face that he could see all looked tired beyond belief.
“What happened?” he asked, watching you flinch at the sound of his voice.
“Nothing, sir,” you whispered.
What could you possibly say? ‘My stepbrother raped me for years and years, then I went to prison for murdering him when I actually was only trying to stop him, then two of your fellow officers raped me, but everyone thinks it’s consensual and that I’m sleeping with them for favours, which means that the other inmates are threatening me, and now the whole world knows about what happened with my stepbrother, has seen what happened, and it’s all my fault.’.
Everyone knows. And no one knows. That’s what happened.
Sam stood there. Not saying anything, he just looked at you, taking it all in. You were scared. Terrified even. Defeated. He had seen it before with other inmates. Nothing as serious as this, but he had seen it. That look on your face, the one that you tried so hard to hide from everyone, but sometimes you just couldn’t.
He sighed lowly, but didn’t let you know what he was thinking or feeling. But he wanted you to know that you didn’t need to be afraid of him.
“Okay, Harper. I just thought I’d ask since I saw Doggett with her crew leaving here, looking cheerful and that’s never good for others, I’ve learned. But if you say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing. But if there is something... anything... I’ll listen.”
The officer seemed to have a kind heart. Something you’d hate to taint with your life or presence, something that seemed inevitable given your history. And if he was to know what you were really feeling, what you were really thinking about... He wouldn’t believe you anyway. No one ever believed you.
“Yes, sir.”
Sam didn’t fail to hear the automatic of the response. He didn’t fail to hear the hollowness of your voice when you said it. But he was going to stay true to his word, and not push if that wasn’t what you wanted.
“Alright, then,” he said, and held out an arm towards the door. “After you.”
Sam had parted ways with you outside of the laundry room. You had seemed to need the space, and he was done for the day. He had been on his way back to the staffroom to get his things when he spotted Doggett and the others leaving in a very cheery mood, and had decided to take a look. He was glad he had done so. Even though he didn’t find anything sharp on you, he wasn’t all that convinced that you weren’t going to hurt yourself. In some way.
When he got to the staffroom there was no one there. So, he got his things and headed for the door. He didn’t need to report any of it to his fellow officers, the matter was taken care of. But when he spotted Steve standing by the intake as he passed, he couldn’t help but step inside.
Steve was finishing up some paperwork for a transfer, and only looked up when he spotted Wilson walking up to him, already wearing his jacket.
“Leaving?” Steve asked, looking back down at the papers on the desk.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a short nod. “I just thought you might wanna know that I saw Harper.”
That got Steve’s attention, and he put down the pen and turned to Sam, leaning against the counter.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I found her in the laundry room. She was pretty upset. It looked like she was having a panic attack.”
The laundry room. Of course. Steve wasn’t surprised to hear the words ‘laundry room’ and ‘panic attack’ together, not after what had happened there. He looked down on the floor, flooded with shame and remorse just from hearing it.
“Really?” he said, trying to keep the somber tone from being too apparent. “Where is she now?”
“We parted ways in the corridor,” Sam explained. “I didn’t see where she went, but she’s not there anymore.”
He waited for Steve to say something, but he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at the floor. The grip on his hip was getting tighter, enough so to whiten his knuckles. Sam didn’t comment on it.
“Doggett was leaving with Leanne Taylor and Angie Rice,” he went on, earning Steve’s attention again. “I saw them come out of the laundry room so I went to check. That’s when I found Harper sitting in the corner. I don’t know what happened, and Harper wouldn’t say, but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Steve gave him a warm smile and a slight nod.
“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate it.”
Sam did the same, and turned on his heel and walked out the door.
“Have a good night,” he said, and disappeared around the corner, before reappearing in a window in the wall where Steve nodded goodbye to him.
Steve placed his palms against the smooth surface of the counter, and leaned heavily on them, his head bowed down. He drew a deep breath, letting it out in a huff strong enough to rustle some of the papers before him.
He hated hearing that you weren’t okay, that you were hurting. There was no way of knowing if Doggett and her friends might have done something to set it off, but Steve had a feeling it was more the surroundings than the company that had done it. He himself had subconsciously kept his distance from that very room, not wanting to be reminded of what had taken place there. What he and Bucky had done.
The fact that you had been there worried him. And the fact that you’d had a panic attack or the likes, was even more worrisome. They had both been so stupid as to think that an apology, an empty promise to not hurt you again, would do anything to reassure you. Because it was just that; empty. You had no trust left for them, and they couldn’t blame you for that.
Steve finished up the paperwork in a jiff, passing it on to where it needed to go, and headed off to find you. He just needed to make sure, he just needed to see for himself that you were as fine as could be expected in a situation like this. He passed through the hallways, twisting and turning and keeping an eye out for you. And he wasn’t the only one.
Bucky appeared from an adjacent hallway, spotting Steve.
“Hey,” he said, earning an acknowledging nod. “I thought you were at the intake.”
“I was,” Steve said, coming to a stop and took a moment to relax. “I just heard from Wilson that Harper wasn’t feeling too good, so...”
Bucky searched Steve’s face, finding traces of worry before Steve forced them away and replaced them with an annoying, almost apologetic look. Bucky smirked.
“And you thought you’d just go see for yourself, huh? Make sure she’s alright, and all that?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, and couldn’t help but give a hint of a smile.
“Knight in shining armour,” Bucky said smoothly. “I like it. Suits you, Rogers.”
A small blush started making its way up Steve’s neck, and he shook his head at his friend. Not that it helped much to keep the blush away, but still.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, okay, Barnes?”
“Oh, how could I not? With a dreamy saviour like you standing right next to me?”
Bucky even winked at him, really pulling Steve’s leg and running with it. And the fact that it just made Steve turn even redder was just too good to pass up on.
O.o.O.o.O
Officer Wilson hadn’t followed you like you thought he might. He had turned around his own corner and left you to your own device, something you were more than grateful for. You really didn’t need the pressure of another man’s presence right now, you had enough on your plate as it were.
Releasing some of the panic that always resided inside your mind was usually a relief, but this hadn’t been. Sure, you had been interrupted in the middle of it all, but that didn’t feel like the cause for all the pent-up stress still inside you. You were still so afraid.
The fearing rabbit was back. You literally looked terrified where you walked, head shooting from one side to the other, constantly aware of everyone’s presence around you. Whenever someone took a step, you knew. Whenever someone laughed, it echoed in your ears. Your senses were on hyperalert. So, to miss the impending confrontation stalking towards you was a surprise on its own.
Prison was very segregated, that you had learned. And the only ones who had bothered you before were the people living in the ‘suburbs’. They had been very vocal and somewhat physical in their threats, but nothing like this.
“Ey, blanca,” was all you heard before you were slammed into a wall.
“Ugh!”
Before you stood three Spanish inmates, all of whom you had never had an interaction with before. If it weren’t for the tags hanging from their clothes you still wouldn’t have an idea who they were. But now Diaz, looking made up from head to toe, Flores with hair as unruly as can be, making her look like a lunatic, and Ramos were all new acquaintances, Diaz being the one keeping you pinned to the wall.
“Who you think you are getting off on sending guards after us, huh? Huh?” she barked at you, shaking you where you stood frozen like a ghost.
“I-I don’t k-know what y-you’re t—”
She shoved you again, not letting you finish your defence. The pretty, younger girl to her right, Ramos, got a word in before Diaz did.
“As if we don’t know it’s you who’s fucking the guards?”
“Yeah,” Flores said, before she started ranting in Spanish, gesturing boldly and looked angrier by the second.
Your eyes jumped from one angry woman to the other, trying to make sense of the situation. You had no idea what the heck they were talking about, or what had even happened, but they were convinced it was all your fault. They said you had sent guards after them, which wasn’t true at all, but the truth never seemed to matter, or do any good. They were convinced you were at fault, and if they wanted to make you the scapegoat, then you’d be their scapegoat. It didn’t matter what you said or did.
Diaz’s hands on you tightened as she slammed you back against the wall again, banging your head against it harshly.
“You wanna fuck with us, huh?” she asked through gritted teeth. “You want the entire Latina population against you, huh?”
“I-I...” you tried to speak but no words would come out, fear silencing you as always, and the raging headache did little to help.
This situation was new. You had never seen this, you didn’t know what rules to follow, how the game was played, or what would set them off. Was begging the right choice? Was it better to stay silent and simply wait for them to go away? You had no idea, and their yelling wouldn’t stop.
“What?” Ramos spat, coming closer to your face. “You got nothin’ to say, huh? What? The guards fuck your throat raw so you can’t speak?”
“P-please, I-I...”
Everything always came back to officer Rogers and Barnes. Why couldn’t it all just stop? The memory was so close you could almost touch it, you felt in simmering inside your mind, prying for attention. And any mention of them or what had happened with them, only brought everything closer to the surface. Fight? Flight? Freeze? Or fawn? It was a spinning wheel of choices, of decisions that needed to be made, but it was never up to you. You mind acted in its own accord, your body following suit.
Flores was still dictating a novel in Spanish in your ear, and it didn’t exactly seem like a comedic one. It was most likely just the translated version of whatever Diaz and Ramos were yelling at you.
Any other inmate turned on their heel when they spotted the encounter, disappearing around the nearest corner or walking back the same way they had come from. They must know better than to get involved in prison drama. No one stepped in, or stepped up to your defence. No one helped you.
You were forced against a wall and held there, being screamed at in both English and Spanish, all the while being accused, again, of having inappropriate relations with a guard. Or several. Whatever the rumour told of this time.
You didn’t see it coming, but you felt the sting of your cheek and split of your lip as you were slapped hard enough to send your head careening to the side. There wasn’t any time to even register it happening before Diaz got all up in your face.
“You think it’s funny to send a guard to harass my daughter? What she ever do to you? Huh? What she ever do?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, probably not wanting one, before she slammed a fist into your stomach. How reminiscent. Just like when Bucky had been the one to throw the punch, it landed hard enough to force you to double over. Ramos took advantage of it, and knocked a knee up to your face. The pain resonated from your mouth, and the taste of blood hit as hard as the first sip of water after a long desert walk. This you knew. This was familiar territory. You were almost relieved. Familiarity would do that.
You spat out blood, your coughing sending it in splotches all over the floor as you tried to ease the pain in your abdomen. She’d hit it hard and low, and it was enough to bring the pain back in your entire core, from the outside in. You wouldn’t be surprised if it caused more blood to seep out. It certainly felt like it.
“Agh...”
You tried gasping for breath but you couldn’t find it, and when Diaz grabbed your hair and pulled you back up against the wall, it wasn’t any easier. She stared right at you, her eyes blow dark with rage.
“You ever come near my kid, my daughter... I will end you, blanca.”
Her free hand disappeared under the hem of her shirt, only to come back holding a homemade shiv. It was a simple toothbrush with a melted-in razorblade, the metallic shining beautifully in the light even, mocking you with its beauty when all it would do was cause you pain. You stared at it in wonder, almost in awe, just waiting for the inevitable.
The officers’ friendly little chat was interrupted when they heard commotion coming from around the corner. They could hear Flores ranting in Spanish, which on its own wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but the faint wheezing and coughing coming from another person usually didn’t accompany it.
Steve looked at Bucky, both seemingly reading the other’s mind, and bolted towards the noise. They appeared just as Aleida Diaz brought a blade up to your face, threatening to use it.
“Hey!” Bucky shouted, startling everyone.
You gasped at the sound of the angry officer, as did Ramos. They all turned towards the guards quickly gaining on them, but Diaz didn’t seem too fazed. Ramos took a staggering step back with her hands out to her sides, looking as innocent as can be. Flores got ready for a rumble, placing her feet wide apart and just waited for the officers to give it their best shot, not planning on going down without a fight.
Fear bloomed in your chest at the sight of their angry faces as they came barrelling towards you. It was hard to distinguish memory from reality, what was really happening and what had already happened. You weren’t sure if you were back in that laundry room, held to the wall by the officers, or here in the corridor, actually held back by an inmate. Everything muddled together.
You looked back at Diaz who seemed unbothered by the impending threat of the officers, undoubtedly coming for her. She lowered the blade from your face, and gave you a wicked smile.
“Don’t ever think we ain’t gonna get you,” she said lowly. “You better remember that, blanca.”
Diaz swiftly stabbed the blade into your belly, right before Bucky managed to tackle her to the ground hard enough to cause the blade to fall from her hand and bounce away on the floor. Steve made quick work of bringing Flores down to the floor and cuffing her hands behind her back, as she continued to spit obscenities at him in Spanish, kicking out in the air hoping to catch him.
“Stay down!” Bucky yelled at Diaz, who still wouldn’t shift her focus from you.
“Fuckin perra!”
The commotion had brought the attention of officer Donaldson, who came running up and grabbing Ramos, bringing her to a wall and kept her there. She didn’t put up much of a fight, instead she started pleading her case and innocence in the matter.
You stood there, rooted to the spot and just staring straight ahead. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was nothing besides shallow puffs and huffs as tears started falling down your cheeks.
“You fucking puta!” Diaz yelled from where she lay on the floor with Bucky on top of her, a knee pressing down hard into her back.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Bucky spat at her, as he made swift work of the cuffs.
The clinking of the metal bands sent another course of flashes through your mind, and the pain in your abdomen came back as you remembered the taser being pressed so hard into your belly. You could still feel the pain. It was still there. It hurt.
With teary eyes you looked down, finding your grey shirt being slowly stained with blood, seeping through the fabric and spreading like paint on a wall. A shaky hand came to press against it, only to draw back revealing a coat of warm blood on it.
Steve and Bucky both looked up at you from where they sat on top of the inmates who had hurt you, their eyes jumping from your abdomen to your face. But you were so lost in the fog inside your mind that you couldn’t see them. You couldn’t see anything but the blood on your hand, the blood that was pouring from a wound in your belly, a wound you had yet to see. Another scar to add to the collection, you could hear Nate’s voice calling.
Before either Steve or Bucky could ask you how you were, CO Donaldson reached for his radio, keeping one hand still on Ramos as he held her to the wall.
“Requesting backup in corridor C. A fight between inmates resulting in three arrests and counting. In need of backup immediately.” He let go of his radio and directed his focus on you. “Stay where you are, inmate. Don’t move a muscle.”
His voice drew your attention, but you couldn’t hear the words he was repeating over and over. You could see his hand reached out towards you, as if to keep you pinned from afar, but you couldn’t hear him. You just stared at him, eyes glazed over and swimming in tears, still not breathing right.
“Ease up, she’s hurt,” Steve said to his fellow officer, hoisting Flores up from the floor, who cursed at him under her breath.
Donaldson looked at Steve.
“You saw the fight?”
Steve looked down at Bucky who was still keeping Diaz pinned down and checking her over for any hidden weapons, their eyes meeting briefly.
“No, not all of it,” Steve admitted.
“Then how do you know she didn’t start this?” Donaldson pushed, looking accusingly at both Steve and you.
Steve couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t seen what had happened, and claiming otherwise wasn’t right. Though he was very sure you were yet again just the victim, he couldn’t fight another battle for you, not like this.
Aleida Diaz groaned as Bucky laid off her, before pulling her up to her feet in a not so gentle move. It startled you, brought you back to the present and the pain, your eyes shooting to hers when you once again came face to face with her.
“Wha’? You fuck anyone in a badge, huh?” she said, voice laced with spite. “You fuck your brother, too?”
What? You stared at her like you’d seen a ghost, and in a way you had. She knew Nate was your stepbrother? How long had she known? Did she know about what happened to him too? Everything was just spiraling into an even worse darkness. There was no stopping it. Her words, her eyes, the searing pain in your abdomen just became too much.
“Shut the fuck up!” Steve barked at Diaz as soon as he heard it.
Bucky gave her a shove to add to the command, leading her away from the commotion in an attempt to calm things down. If he was being honest, he really didn’t want you to get an other earful of whatever shit she had to say about you, or them, or your stepbrother. You’d had more than enough.
Steve looked humbly at you, noting the paleness of your face, along with the blood dripping from your mouth, and the far away stare. You kept a hand pressed to the wound on your belly, but it was like you weren’t really in your body, by the looks of it. Or maybe you were trapped inside your head.
“You okay?” he asked softly, not caring about the glare coming from Donaldson at such gentle language.
His voice drew your attention. For the first time in a really long time, you looked at him. Really looked at him. His blue eyes were filled with concern and sadness and compassion. Lines of worry framed his eyes as his brows furrowed together. There was a tension in his jaw you hadn’t seen before. Like he had a world of words to say but no means to say them.
CO Maxwell and O’Neill came jogging from down the hall, the sound of their footsteps bringing you out of your trance. You blinked like you had been blinded by the light, and started gasping for breath. It felt like you had been under water for hours, slowly drowning and not having enough air to fill your lungs. You gasped and gasped for breath, the tension burning in your chest, but it helped keep you grounded.
That’s when the pain really appeared. You pressed down harder on the wound, knowing it would only hurt more, but experience told you that you had to. This was nothing if not familiar. The sarcastic remark of ‘at least it’s even on both sides now’ came to your mind, Nate’s shallow chuckle accompanying it shortly after.
“What happened?” Maxwell asked, assessing the situation.
She looked between her fellow officers and the inmates gathered, noticing the blood on your shirt. O’Neill stepped up and grabbed Flores from Steve, and started patting her down just in case, as was protocol.
Steve straightened his back, never once looking away from you. He drew a deep breath, also familiar with situations like this.
“Barnes and I came around the corner and found Harper being ganged up on by Diaz, Ramos and Flores,” he started explaining. “It looks like she’s been stabbed with a shiv, she’s bleeding pretty badly.”
Maxwell looked around, nodding to Donaldson as he started leading Ramos away, and checked in with O’Neill, who was still patting down an angry Flores.
“Mother Diaz or daughter?” she asked.
“Mother.”
She nodded, looking back when she heard the sound of O’Neill leading Flores away as well, leaving just her and Steve with you.
“Where’s the shiv?” she asked.
“It fell out of Diaz’s hand when Bucky took her down,” Steve informed, and noticed the weapon discarded on the floor further down the hallway.
Maxwell noticed it too, and made the decision that it could wait until she had checked you over. She looked at you searchingly, before stepping closer, making you take a flinching step back, a gasp joining in. She held her hands up to show that she didn’t have any bad intentions, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said softly. “I just need to take a look.”
“No!” you almost screamed, taking another step away from the officer, your eyes glued to hers.
You shook your head over and over, whispering ‘no’ like it was a prayer. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, but you didn’t care. They could look at your face all they wanted, as long as she didn’t look at your body. You pressed down harder, causing another gush of blood to spew from the wound. Your other hand flew to the wall to keep you steady, as you kept the distance.
Steve took a short step forward, knowing how startled you must be from that alone, and he was not wrong. Your jaw was quivering and your body trembled as your eyes jumped to his. He lowered his head and slumped his shoulders, trying to appear smaller. It was hard enough with a stature like his, and his build didn’t make it any better.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said calmingly. “We don’t need to look. I’ll take you straight down to see nurse Banner, okay? He’ll patch you up.”
There weren’t really any other options to choice from, and the nurse had been very kind whenever you had seen him. He seemed like the best shot, and hopefully you would be able to hide your body as much as possible during the examination. If you said no right now, chances were that one or more of the officers would look first, and no matter what you would have to see Banner. So, you nodded, and made your choice.
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