Chapter 3 – Too Soon
23:32 pm Thursday, 5th October 2017
Sitting on the rooftop that she was definitely meant to be on, Nat's mind wandered back on the previous month of hell. Why did this keep on happening? So many people in the world, but no. The Fates decided to make her insignificant existence as miserable as they possibly could.
Nat closed her eyes as a light breeze hit her face, thankful for the cool night during October; the month of mixed seasons. Fingers gently brushing against the purplish mark on her cheek, Nat let out a resigned sigh. That was nothing new either. The injuries. Torture, abusive foster homes, it all just added up. Long, curly hair blew around Nat's face as she watched the busy road. Cars drove past, tired from a long shift and eager to get home. Blissfully unaware of a tormented child, mere meters away.
No one knew. No one cared. What did the feelings of one child matter? She was a foster kid with a troubled past, who would believe her claims? Only a matter of time before she was moved again anyway, so what was the point.
One month. That was the standard time with any foster home. Most of the homes just seemed to blur together to form over a year of loneliness and discomfort. Natasha could count the number of families she had been genuinely happy at on one hand with fingers to spare. Sharing a room with MJ. The Ryan's. That man who lived on a farm – what was his name? Cody Hood and his daughter Molly. Such a tomboy is she'd ever seen one. That kid refused to wear skirts, dresses or anything resembling pink. She had actually learned French while staying there, seeing as it was the family's first language.
It had only been one month, yet it had felt like another lifetime since Nat was sitting at the dinner table with Brooke and the rest of the family. A whole month without seeing MJ.
Literally the worst form of torture known to man.
Then thinking back to her hidden past, Nat reconsidered. If the scars that littered her back and torso were anything to go by, there had been much torture and torment in her life. Yet knowing this gave Nat little comfort; she still missed her friend dearly.
Natasha let out a low sigh, combing her overgrown bangs out of her eyes with her small, scarred fingers. Hand coming to rest on her swollen, bruised and blackened eye, Nat shifted uncomfortably at the memory. One of the boys had jumped her while she was cleaning the table after dinner. Smashed and shattered, she had been cut by the glass and then beaten by her foster carer, James. At least she healed fast. Give it a few hours and there wouldn't even be a scar. This time.
The wind began to pick up and as lightning flashed across the sky. The rain had not yet come, yet the clouds blocked out the stars. She sat outside for a few more minutes until water started falling from the sky.
Groaning in defeat, Nat sat up to begin her descent off the roof. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, momentarily lighting up the dismal street and illuminating a shadowed figure. Not even a second later, a defining clap of thunder came. And just like that, he was gone from sight. But still, Nat stared in relief. He had found her. She was safe. Why this random shadow made Natasha feel safe, she had no clue. But he did, so she accepted the fact.
The ongoing lightning strikes continued to show the strange man, standing out in the increasing drizzle of rain. They stood out in the rain, now a continuous drum on the corrugated roof, eyes locked despite the vanishing light. Eventually, Nat turned away, determined to head inside before she became completely soaked to the bone. It wasn't like he was going anywhere.
Seven-thirty. That was when James Anderson came downstairs. Meaning that Nat had to have breakfast and coffee ready and waiting by then. And their children's school lunches packed before that. When James came walking down the stair, his posture totally read 'I'm not going to deal with any of your crap today.' Which, for Nat, loosely translated to 'I will beat you up and take out all my frustration on you if you get in my way.'
Nat picked up his coffee and set it on the table by his right hand. He didn't say thanks, he didn't even acknowledge her, but Nat didn't mind, she was far too used to it to care anyway. "You are not to be seen, you are not to be heard. You will do what you are told when you are told – no exceptions or you will be punished." That was how she lived.
Natasha could hear arguing coming from upstairs and rolled her eyes at the object of the quarrel. Nat had to resist the urge to shout for them to be quiet, just as she heard Bethany yell at her younger brothers.
"Would you two just quit it already! You're both beautiful ladies so just leave it at that!"
A few moments later both of them were racing down the stairs. Bailey with only his right sock on and Boston only had two buttons on his uniform done up. Nat finished setting the table and made her leave as the rest of the family came downstairs. No need to get into any more trouble today.
Natasha stayed well and truly out of the way, which was how she liked it. In any case, peaceful solitude was better than accompanied chaos. Coming back from a household bin run, Nat finally had the house to herself – bar the cats of course.
Coco and Lala could usually be found slinking somewhere dark and small. James had left for work, and Sarah had taken her kids to school on her way to work herself, leaving Nat to clean up, as per usual. Pulling her hair back in a messy bun, Natasha began her round of daily chores, humming the soundtrack of the Annie remake as she went.
Almost two hours later Nat was finally done the abundance of chores left for her to do daily. Running up to her room, Nat spread her books, a pencil case and laptop in a semi-circle around her on the floor. Learning was something Natasha was good at. With moving from home to home every month or so, it became second nature to learn and adjust to specific requirements.
Home-school was easy, to say the least. Everything just seemed so simple. The only thing that ever stumped her was in English. Those damn prefixes and suffixes made no sense. If 'dislike' is the opposite of 'like', is 'disaster' the opposite of 'aster'? And why isn't 'whelmed' a thing? How can you be 'overwhelmed' and 'underwhelmed' yet have nothing in-between? Blah!
Nat was a whiz when it came to math and science, but her real forte was in languages. Chinese? Check. Greek, Russian? Double check. German? Bingo. Arabic? Why not. Nat had even started a Romanian course last week and guess what – fluent! Natasha had a faint recollection of speaking Romanian to a kid when she was younger. Maybe at a circus? All she knew was it was noisy and colourful.
Curled up in the corner of her room with holding her phone, Spotify open on the screen, Nat had large black headphones, pretending that this was all just a dream. Astronaut, by Simple Plan, surrounded Nat. As she closed her eyes and became absorbed in the song. Her body lifeless, face void of any emotion. The only signs of life being her deep purple eyes glistening with tears.
"Can anybody hear me?" she asked. "Or am I talking to myself? My mind is running empty, in this search for someone else, who doesn't look right through me. It's all just static in my head..."
Why... Why me? Why does everyone have to leave? Why do I have to live through hell? Why can't I be with my family? Why don't I deserve someone, anyone, in my life? I was left alone, begging for help and no one heard. And I'm stuck here on my own, lost... forgotten to the world.
"Can I please come down? Cause I'm tired of drifting round and round. Can I please come down? I'm deafened by the silence. Is it something that I've done? I know that there are millions... I can't be the only one who's so disconnected. It's so different in my head. Can anybody tell me why I'm lonely like a satellite?"
"'Cause tonight I'm feeling like an astronaut, sending SOS from this tiny box to the lonely people that the world forgot. Are you out there? 'Cause you're all I've got."
I lie awake every night, screaming in my head. The nightmares, the darkness... it's too strong. I can't fight it off forever. It's dragging me down. I don't know if I can ever come back.
"Can I please come down? So tonight I'm calling all astronauts. All the lonely people that the world forgot. If you hear my voice, come pick me up. Are you out there? 'Cause you're all I've got...
Can I please come down?
20:46 pm Friday, 6th October 2017
"Natalie, get over here and clean up," Adrienne snapped at her once everyone had finished eating. Nat walked over to the sink and dishwasher in annoyance. A whole stinking month of this Schist!
"How many times do I have to tell you? My name is not Natalie," she replied in a deadly calm to her foster mum.
The sound of Adrienne's hand connecting to Nat's face resonated through the house. Adrienne had slapped her. That Cow! Nat turned her head to look back at the crazy woman, ignoring the pain in her cheek that was already fading to a dull sting.
"I don't care! You are in Australia now, so you will act like it. No more forging names!" she spat the word out like it was diseased.
"Seriously? Australia has only been colonised for two-hundred years! There is a very small pool of names which originate from here!" Nat went off, not really caring about the consequences.
"In any case, Natalie is still Russian..." Nat commented back quietly. But apparently, the woman didn't like that. Not at all.
"How many times do I have to punish you before you get it through your head? Stop speaking that infernal language!" Adrienne yelled at the child as she slapped her again.
"By the Gods, I didn't do anything wrong!"
A moment later, James' fist connected to Nat's face.
Meh, she thought. I've had worse.
"Να πας στο διαολο," Nat spat out in Greek, "Go to Hell"
"That includes using that disgusting accent your parents gave you!" James' voice rang in her ears.
"You know what? Vàll' eis Kórakas! Throw yourself to the crows. Flocci non faccio, I don't give a damn."
Adrienne slapped her one last time, "and clean this mess up," before following her good-for-nothing husband to the couch where they proceeded to watch the news. And I'm invisible again...
She could fight back – Nat could easily defend herself – but it wasn't worth it. The last time she had done that, she almost ended up in juvie. So, Nat let them have their way with her. It wouldn't be for long anyway. She'd be picked up and carted off to some other place within the week.
And that day couldn't come soon enough.
Nat was almost done cleaning when something leaked through her mental block. Now, usually, Nat tuned herself out when around others because she couldn't be bothered with humanity anymore. But something the woman said had Natasha transfixed on the televisions.
"A family of six have been caught in an explosion in their own home, the origin is still unknown. Authorities and paramedics are making their way to the scene. Reports are flooding in that the residential home of 475 Honour Avenue, Graceville is engulfed in flames. There have been no survivors found. Neighbours tell us that the Ryan family was home during the explosion..."
The sound of multiple glass plates smashing against concrete floors broke the silence.
A constricting feeling, much like an invisible hand grabbing at her throat seemed to be depriving Natasha of air.
No...
It felt like the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders, crushing her in its presence. It was as if she was holding up the sky itself. There was no sound. No air. Nothing. Frozen in place, Nat could only watch the footage in horror.
Please... no.
"Natalie, what the hell are you doing?" James screamed at the girl. But she just stood in stunned silence.
This couldn't be happening. How? Why? Why them? The amnesiac child could only process single word thoughts. It was all too much.
No... no-no-no-no-no. Fire. Survivors. None. Explosion. H.Y.D.R.A. Escape. Help. Run. Run.
Run!
Freed from her temporal parlays, Nat's eyes darted wildly around the kitchen bench, coming to rest on a set of keys. Without hesitation, Natasha launched herself over the island bench and snatched up the key-chain. She didn't stop running until she was out of the house and onto the driveway. Mounting James Anderson's motorbike, Nat sped off, calculating time in her head as wind gushed past her. Fifteen kilometres, roughly twenty minutes at sixty k's an hour. Can make it in under three minutes with a hell-a-lot of speeding.
People were out on the streets. Neighbours had gathered around as emergency responders attempted to control the blaze.
"Nu!" a scream tore at her throat. Natasha had broken through the police barrier and climbed through a shattered window into a bedroom. Fire surrounding her, smoke billowing from under the door.
"Jacen?" she called out into intense heat. "Giselle! Where are you?"
Strong hands wrapped around her as she was thrown over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "No, no! Lemme go! No, Brooke!"
"My family's in there," she screamed at the A.S.I.S. agent holding her back, "They're gonna burn – You're letting them die!" Nat didn't stop screaming until she was placed on the grass outside the blackened house, amber flames licking at the windows. Nat's arms were still pinned down by the man attempt to stop her from escaping. Moisture rolled down Natasha's cheeks, glistening eyes watching on in terror.
"Natasha stop," he ordered. "They're gone. It's too late."
As realisation dawned on her that it was too late to save them, the struggling, kicking, and shouting all came to a halt. Natasha went slack in the man's grasp. It was no use. They were gone. Forever. Like a shadow in the night.
"Pozhaluysta... net..." Natasha whispered in hopeless. It was over.
"This attack was meant to kill you. We need to go - now!" The words rang in Natasha's head half a dozen times before her brain actually registered what was said.
Nat's legs seemed to stop working as the words sunk in. unable to support her weight, she sunk to the ground. It was her fault. They were after her. Numb with pain, she allowed herself to be dragged to a government car.
Or perhaps it could. That day was here. But at a cost.
Amber eyes stared out of the tinted window, hollow and full of pain. It took a while before Nat found her voice again.
"W-where are you taking me?" Usually, Nat would never let herself be taken – at night no less – by some guy and follow him into a car. But Henderson was always in charge of relocation Nat, so he became the exception.
Nat looked away from the passenger window and to agent Henderson in the driver's seat. You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better? Yeah. That was his face. He looked like he wanted to lie, but he looked at the girl and thought better of it.
Natasha was in very real danger. And no amount of sugar-coating and curveballs could change that. "HYDRA is on your tail. You can't go back to the Anderson house. You aren't safe anymore."
"They beat the crap out of me; how was I any safer there?" Natasha asked hotly, then, as an afterthought, she added, "why can't I just stay in one place?"
"You know why, Natasha-"
"No, I don't actually," she cut him off, irritation levels rising. When would people stop treating her as if she was a delicate, prissy princess that could break down at any moment? "You never tell me."
Ouch. Henderson looked over to the child next to him. Always on the run, life being torn apart before her eyes. She deserved to know.
"HYDRA is still looking for you, Natasha. You were rescued a year and a half ago from a HYDRA base. It's been my job to keep you moving every few months, so they don't catch up with you. But you were happy..." he shook his head, focus turning back to the dark, wet and ominous road. "I let you stay with the Ryan's too long... and now you're in even more danger than before."
With a huff, Natasha turned away. She rested her arm resting on the door to act as a pillow for her head. The car trip was silent after that. Agent Henderson mulling over in his mind how he could keep the girl in the seat next to him safe. While Natasha was busy ignoring all of her emotions, like always.
There are two efficient ways to ignore what you are feeling. First, you can occupy yourself with as many thoughts and activities as possible. If your mind is busy, you won't have time to remember you are in pain. And second, nothingness. Complete and utter oblivion. Nothing to think; nothing to feel.
Option one is tiering but option two kinda makes you seem like a robot. Oh well... Natasha's lack of thought was only interrupted by a faint sound coming closer and closer. Her eyes widened a fraction when the origin of the sound came into view. She barely managed to shout out a warning, "Henderson, look out!" before the car was hit, rolling multiple times, eventually stopping on a – very destroyed – roof.
Searing, white-hot heat blinded Natasha as the car tumbled. Her entire left side covered in burns and blood. Shattered glass leaving hundreds of cuts bleeding, shards of glass protruding from the skin.
"Mr Henderson?" Natasha asked, coming out of a daze. "Mr Henderson!" Nat lifted her left arm to reach across and try and wake the unconscious Agent, but agonising pain stabbed at her arm as she yanked it out from where it was being crushed between the car door and seat. Natasha cried out in pain, her arm (correction: broken arm) had metal and glass sticking out of it. Brilliant.
"Agent Michael Henderson?" Nat called, desperately searching for signs of life. There was no reply. She forced herself to steady her breathing, listening for the sound of a second heartbeat.
Nothing.
Ignoring the dead body less than a half meter away from her, Natasha focused on her other arm. Part of the roof had caved in and she couldn't get free. This is gonna hurt, was her only thought on the matter. Nat clenched her teeth together in preparation as she counted backwards from three.
Tri, dva, odin.
With an excruciating jolt of pain, Natasha forced her shoulder out of its socket. Natasha let lose a Russian curse.
Finally able to pull free, Natasha crawled away from the wreckage (severely cutting open her hands and knees on obliterated shards of glass in the process). Looking back at the wreckage, Natasha turned and took off into the woods.
Injured, bleeding, and on the verge of passing out, she stumbled and fell in the pitch-black forest. The trees bowed and bent low as a chilled wind howled through their branches. Not too far away, the distinct sound of a hunting cry. A pack of Dingoes were nearing.
With her vision going dark as the world spun at her feet, Nat saw about seven shadows, contracting into one man before splitting again.
"Rest now, kid," a familiar voice that Natasha couldn't pinpoint spoke. "You're safe."