His Saving Grace

The laughs were surrounding me, jeers and insults thrown from every direction, I couldn’t tell who was saying what. I spun in a circle, the faces of my tormentors blurring around me. Some were boys, some were girls, but they all looked at me the same way.

I was the freak. And the only way to deal with a freak was with harsh words and sharp rocks. I felt one of the rocks hit my cheek, I felt the blood drip down the side of my face and onto my dress, staining it red.

“Freak!” A voice yelled out over the others, louder and older.

“Spawn of Satan!” An even older voice yelled.

“Get her! Send it back to where it belongs!” Another yelled, croaky and elderly.

I felt hands on me, pulling me this way and that. I fell to the ground, and I could feel the dirt sliding away from under me, I could feel the pressure from my wrists as those around me dragged me over rocks and broken pieces of glass.

My cries and screams weren’t heard over the laughs and calls for my death, people from streets over joining in and making even more of a crowd and making me deaf to everything else. Faintly, I could hear a woman screaming, pleading with the crowd to stop, to think about what they were doing.

I didn’t recognize the voice.

A stranger cared more for me than my own family.

They dragged me over a large stone, the edge digging into my hip, feeling like it hit bone. I struggled, pulling on my arms and kicking my legs out, trying to loosen their grips on my wrists. But I was too small, and they were too big.

“Please, let me go! Let me go! I’ll stop! Please, I’ll stop!” I screamed, my voice sore and dirt clawing its way down my throat. The laughs around me grew in volume, and I felt a small boot hit me in my side. I looked over and saw Deidre, my one and only friend, glaring down at me. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I knew what she called me.

“Witch.” And then she looked up, a bright grin falling over her face. I managed to turn my head enough to see what she was grinning at. The townspeople who weren’t surrounding me were throwing wood into a pile. Even as a child, I knew what it was.
My struggles doubled, and I twisted even as it forced rocks deeper into my small body. I’d rather rocks than fire.

“Please! Let me go!” I cried, tears making track marks through the dirt on my face. “I’ll do anything! I promise!” I screamed, sobbing hard. They ignored me.

I was lifted into the air, and set down on the wood. I pushed myself up, arms and legs shaking as I looked out over the town square. Everyone in the town was present, and I could see a small group of women in black and white dresses, habits, being held back by other people. A few of them were crying, a few stood there, frozen.

My attention was drawn to the man who was walking towards me. I thought that he’d gotten away from the crowd and was going to help me, until I saw the match in his hand.

“Please.” I whimpered when he got close enough. The glare he sent me stopped me from speaking anymore.

“Demon.” He spat, lighting the match and throwing it at the bottom of the wood stack.
The flames crawled up the wood, and I scrambled back, shrieking.

I looked around at the crowd desperately, looking for anyone who would be able to help me. Other than the nuns, everyone was cheering.

I screamed and screamed, until I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me.

I opened my eyes and found myself looking directly into Bucky’s, his eyes were wide, and he wasn’t able to hide the worry in them. Behind him Steve and Sam were standing in the entrance, worried expressions on their own faces.

I took a shuddering breath, clenching my fists to stop them from shaking, though it was no use. My entire body was trembling, and my cheeks felt wet.

“Grace? Are you okay?” Bucky asked, hands still on my shoulders, and I nodded slowly, though I wasn’t very convincing, wiping a shaking hand under my eyes. “Steve, can you grab her a glass of water?” Bucky asked, looking over his shoulder. Steve nodded, motioning for Sam to follow him. They both disappeared and Bucky turned back to me. “Grace? Tell me.” He said softly, and I shook my head.

“There’s nothing to tell.” I said shakily, taking a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I hadn’t dreamt that particular memory in a very long time. An extremely long time.

“You can trust me.” Bucky stressed, hurt in his sad blue eyes. I nodded.

“I know. But I really would rather not talk about it.” I said my voice evening out the longer I was awake and able to push the memory back where it belonged. At the very back of my mind behind a solid mental wall that was indestructible.

“Okay.” Bucky said, turning when Steve reappeared with a glass of water. Bucky stood and took it, nodding to him and whispering something I couldn’t hear. Steve nodded and turned, leaving Bucky and I alone again.

Bucky turned and sat back down beside me, handing me the glass. I took it with a still shaking hand and took a small sip before putting it on the crate that served as a bed side table.

“You should go back to sleep.” Bucky said quietly, leaning forward and planting his elbows on his knees, head turned to face me. I shook my head softly.

“I think I’ve had enough sleep. What time is it?” I asked, hand covering a yawn that escaped my lips.

“It’s not even four yet. Go back to sleep, I’ll stay here until you do.” He said, giving me a soft smile that I hadn’t seen on him before.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. Go back to bed.” I said, laying back down and staring at the ceiling.

“I want to. Now go to sleep.” Bucky said softly, moving off my bed to sit on the floor, back against the bed. I turned on my side and watched him for a moment.

“Bucky, its fine. That concrete isn’t comfortable.” I mumbled, making Bucky turn around and watch me for a moment.

“Sleep.” He ordered and I sighed, rolling back over and closing my eyes.

“You’re so difficult.” I muttered.

“You’re so stubborn. Now, shut up and sleep.” Came his gruff reply and I smiled a little.