"Yeah," Bucky replies, more forcefully than he means to. He lifts his metal hand, letting the light catch on it. "Someone tried to forge me into something perfect, but instead I became a monster. I wish I had died instead. Even with the good things that came after, everything is tainted with the ugliness of this thing," every time he sees it, he wishes he could rip it off, but every time he tries it hurts too much and takes him back to the fall, when his real arm had been indelicately removed.