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Warnings: dark themes, mentions of suicide, mentions of mistreating humans
The first thing that was removed from you was the muzzle around your mouth. You thought these people were crazy to remove it, but once it was gone, the air on your lips felt too strange for you to do anything but touch them. They're chapped, and you can't help run your tongue over them in an effort to smooth them out.
You only wonder when they're going to remove the tube going up your nose.
Through the glass window of the room you're sitting in - one that far nicer than one you ever remember having - you see the man who rescued you talking to another you had seen on the jet that brought you here. It seems like you're the only one to have made it out of the hell hole because you haven't seen anyone else. You heard the man's name is Bucky when you overheard him and his friends talking on the jet. You were faking that you were asleep when in reality, you weren't sure if you could trust them. But there's something in this man, Bucky's eyes that you saw when he knelt down in front of you that makes you feel like he has some kind of understanding of where you come from.
He walks into the room as the doctor leaves and he gives you a comforting smile as he sits in the round chair the doctor had been on while they were removing your muzzle. "How are you feeling?" he asks, not sure if you'll be able to answer him.
It seems like you want to talk to him, but you bite your tongue and turn your gaze down to your hands that lay in your lap.
"Can you talk?" Bucky asks gently, not wanting to upset or offend you. When you look up at him again, you give a very timid nod. "What's holding you back?"
You take a deep breath, your mouth opening a bit but you're still hesitant to speak. "I'm...scared," you whisper, your voice sounding hollow at first, but that past after you cleared your throat.
"Scared of what?" Bucky asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and keeping his eyes locked with yours.
You take another breath and then drop your head between your shoulder, your gaze landing on your hands again. "They put that muzzle on you for a reason, didn't they?"
His question makes your body shake and you wring your hands tightly. "They did everything I told them to do even if they didn't want to do it. They couldn't help it," you explain, keeping your voice soft as you look at Bucky again through your lashes. "I told one guard to kill himself. And he pulled his gun on himself right in front of me and shot himself in his mouth without a second thought. Without even stopping." Bucky sits up straight, understanding better now. "When they tried to punish me for doing that, I screamed at them and...my voice made their ears bleed." Your voice trails off and you look back at your hands.
"You're scared that you're going to hurt us," Bucky concludes, and you nod your head again. "Can you tell me how you got your abilities?"
You look at him with a begging look, silently asking him to not make you talk anymore. He nods his head, weaves his fingers together, and swallows roughly. "Can I at least get your name?"
Thinking about it for a moment, your eyes glance down to his hands and you stare at the one metal and one flesh one. You wonder how he got that.
Bucky notices your stare, but unlike when other's would stare, he doesn't feel any judgment under your gaze.
And then, when your eyes return to his face, you whisper your name to him.
