Welcome to Chapter six, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel

"Speaking"

Sign Language

"Both"

Clint guessing what a word is, (insert word here?)

missing word, ... (three dots per word).

l-e-t-t-e-r, is fingerspelling. (Names are not done like this because they are using name signs).

ALSO NEW

(speaking in Russian)

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has reference to past rape, but no actual rape scenes. It also has the hitting of a minor.

Natasha quickly left her room. She then walked down the stairs and into the living room, where she knew he would be waiting. She stopped at the man standing by a chair and bowed her head low, making sure not to meet his gaze. He would take it as a challenge if she looked him in the eye. If he believed he was being challenged, she would get hurt. She made sure not to challenge him.

(Yes sir,) she said.

(Why are you not dressed, we leave in five minutes,) he shouted at her.

(I'm sorry sir, it was my mistake sir, I shall get dressed right away sir,) she said quickly.

(Well go on, and be quick.) She nodded and then scurried to her room to put on her dance clothes. She fixed her hair in a bun quickly, she could redo it in the car if need be, and rushed down the stairs again. Her father was not in the living room, so she headed to the garage, grabbing her dance bag on the way out the door. He was sitting in the car waiting for her. She got in with her dance bag and kept her head down. He backed out of the drive way and headed towards the dance studio.

(I'll be back at 9:30,) he told her, and he was gone. She entered the studio and filed into one of the rooms where a few kids were warming up. She wasn't late, which she was thankful for, if she was, she would be in trouble with her father. A few minutes later, the class started.

Dance went as always, her teacher praised her and the other girls glared, jealous of the attention she was getting. At least the other girls wanted to be here. She would rather be at school with her friends, or at the park with Clint and the boys, or at the lake her group of friends liked to travel to in summer, or Tony's house during their sleepover nights, or really anything but here. At least the dance studio was better than the house she lived in. She could be thankful for that at least.

They had a dance recital coming up soon, so they were practicing one of the dances for it. Natasha was the lead in it, and the only one who could actually remember the steps. She snorted, how did these girls even get into this class? The rest of the class had been dancing for as long as Natasha had. Unlike her, they didn't need to dance to live though. This is what made her better.

Eventually it was 9:15, and dance let out, so she waited out front for her father to arrive. Her teacher said good bye after making sure her father was coming. 9:30 came and went, and her father still had not arrived, even though he told her he would be here by now. At 9:45 he arrived, fifteen minutes late. Why could he be late, but she couldn't? She got in the car and they drove towards home. On the way she spoke.

(Sir?) she asked

(Yes darling,) he answered. She held back a shudder at the word. She was not his darling.

(Could you sign some papers sir?)

(What for?) he asked.

(For school sir,) she whispered.

(School,) he snorted, (Why care about school when you have dance, school will get you nowhere, forget about it, don't ask me again.)

(But sir, if you want me to get into a good dance school, I need to keep my studies up sir,) she told him. He turned his angry gaze toward her and slapped her across her face.

(What have I said about arguing Natalia,) he roared.

(Sorry sir,) she said meekly, and neither of them talked for the rest of the ride home.

When they arrived home, Natasha scurried up to her room and shut the door before her father could confront her about their conversation in the car. She sighed. This meant that she would have to forge her father's signature onto her syllabi. She had done it before; she knew her teachers wouldn't notice. She wasn't worried about her teachers, but her father. If her father found out, he would be very mad. She walked up to the mirror in her room and peered at her face. She winced. She didn't wince in pain, but in the fact people would notice it tomorrow. She checked that she had enough concealer and then put on pajamas, which were just an old shirt of Clint's and soft shorts. She looked up at her ceiling, and after checking that her alarm clock was on, tried to fall asleep. Falling asleep was decently hard considering that she hadn't gotten dinner tonight. If she hadn't argued she would have eaten.

Natasha jerked awake sweating, panicking, and extremely scared. She didn't know remember what the dream was about, but she could guess. It probably wasn't about her father, her father didn't scare her this much. No, it was probably about Uncle Ivan. She shuttered.

Eventually, she looked at her clock. It blinked 2:17 in the morning. It was way too early to even think about getting up. She sighed and flopped back down, trying to calm down. It didn't work, and she started to sob, her terrors coming back to haunt her. How her Uncle Ivan had pushed down on his bed, taken off her clothing, and and. She pressed her face against her pillow, trying to banish her thoughts. She cried herself to sleep that night.

The persistent beep, beep, beep, of her alarm clock woke her. She got up and took a quick shower, got dressed, put concealer on her face to cover up the hand shaped bruise that had formed over night, grabbed her backpack and lunch she had quickly made, and got out the door before her father woke up. She walked to her bus stop, and sat down on one of the uncomfortable blue benches there. She pulled out the seven syllabi she had, and looked to where their parent / guardian signature was supposed to go. It wasn't empty like she thought it would be. Seven signatures, her fathers, not her forged ones were on the paper. She put them away shocked and slightly frightened. If they were signed that meant her father had been in her room last night. She sat still, frightened and scared until the bus came.

When the bus did arrive, she hopped on and looked for Clint. He was sitting near the back and she went to join him.

Hey, he signed.

Hi, she signed back.

You okay? He asked worried. He could see the pain in her eyes. She nodded and drew a shaky breath and then put on her mask, even though Clint was the one person who could see through it.

I'm fine.

Please review, I love to hear what you think about my story! Thanks for reading, and anyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited.

See you next time,

notUnique.