A/N: Some sexually explicit, non-consensual writing in this chapter.
She doesn't allow them to see the silent tears that begin to slide down her cheeks, coming over the bridge of her nose and eventually making their way to the inside of her ears, creating an odd squelching noise as she lay on her side and tried not to make any noise. Luckily, Clint seemed happy to take up post at the door and not approach her. His breathing was rhythmic, in opposition to her haggard, uneven intakes. They seem to be opposites more often in these days, with Clint fighting in every circumstance for Natasha to recover and go back to her normal life, where Natasha seemed indifferent and unmotivated to return to normalcy, hell-bent, instead, on her own destruction of everything in her life - good and bad.
As the tears slid down her face, she tried to focus on Clint's breathing to lull her to sleep, despite the wild possibilities in her mind that would not let her brain fall into the release of rest. In… Out… In… Out…
Tricking them won't work again, they have caught on to too much. And likely they will have done a good amount of research, especially if Nicole told them anything… But they won't let me outwardly self-destruct, either, so I'm not sure what other options I logistically have, she thinks.
In… Out…
If I actually try to get better, what will it hurt? I don't like doing any of this… Maybe they can actually help me get past my past and move forward. I mean, really, how much worse can it get?
In… Out…
Is Clint sleeping? She wants to lift her head to check, but she is sure that the tears would drip down her face and reveal how she is feeling, which would lead to more talking and more therapy… More doctors and pills and food and more reversing of her progress that would only lead her to more trouble when the Red Room retook her.
In… Out…
In… Out…
Focus on his breathing. Make yours match his.
In… Out…
"You have failed, Natasha," Viktoriya's voice greets her in the darkness, suddenly filling her whole mind. She thinks she can hear it rattling in her ears, and for a moment, she drifts in and out of the dream before its pull becomes too strong. Her body is transported back to her room, the small cinderblock cave where she lays chained to the bed. A woman, Viktoriya, appears in the doorframe and Natasha pulls against the restraints, trying the curl her body inward and hide as much of her naked flesh as she can manage.
"Now, now," Viktoriya smiles, entering the harsh light, flanked by two larger men. "There's no need to hide. Your next performance is in a few weeks and you don't need to protect your body. You'll have plenty of time to heal after we are done with you."
"Please! Please, don't! They swore I wouldn't come back here!"
"Who swore that?" One of the men chuckles. "One of your… Avengers? They are no heroes as you think. They are merely men and are… unmatched to our forces. You did not truly think they cared for you, dearest Nat?" She spits with venom in her voice, using their nickname for her as she softly whimpers at her words. "Oh my dear Natasha, you are so sadly naive and even more disappointing than I thought."
"I didn't want to! They made me stop. I tried to keep training, I knew I'd come back!"
"Now, that doesn't change the…" she glances up and down Natasha's body, unmarred with cuts and no bones protruding, "state of affairs. Does it?"
"N-no," Natasha replies shakily, no longer struggling. "No, madam."
"Good! Well…" Viktoriya eyes her again, moving to remove the cuffs around Natasha's ankles and wrists. "Now that we have that out of the way. Shall we continue your training? I'd say you have at least two full days of ballet, about 250 incisions, and at least a dozen men to please before you can resume regular training. You can start with these two," she motions to the men behind her.
"Yes madam…" she says quietly, moving to her knees in submission and admittance of her own defeat. She takes both of the men in her mouth first, quickly satisfying them to completion.
"On the bed, bitch," the brunette tells her. "Ass up."
"Please," she quietly begs him not to do this. "Not there, it's been so long…"
"I don't take wishes from insolent little bitches," he slaps her across the face as the blonde man next to him laughs and pushes Natasha toward the bed, knocking her from her knees to all fours.
"If you want us to humiliate you, too, keep talking Red."
"N-no sir," she shudders.
"Good, now don't make me ask again. Get on your fucking knees on that bed and spread your cheeks for us, slut." This time, she complies with his demands and shoves her own face into the hard mattress so that the men do not see her tears. The brunette roughly enters her first, taking no time at all to lubricate the dry entrance or to avoid tearing her tender flesh. She isn't sure how long he spends inside her before Switching places with his friends, but neither takes the time to rinse off before abruptly flipping her and taking turns in her other two holes. Their members are covered in her fluids and blood by the time they reach her mouth and begin to force their way in and out of her throat, paying no mind to her gagging and incessant sputtering.
"Look at her little tears," the blonde says. "Those would make good lube, bitch, if I cared to give you any. Keep 'em coming, Cris likes his girls to cry."
In the earlier days, she may have fought back, maybe bit down on his member or spit in his face, but now she accepts her fate and his abuse, continuing to let the tears fall.
Some hours later, she feels herself being gently shaken and instinctively moves herself out of the mattress toward the shower to rinse the blood off before she is ushered to the ballet studio with no leotard or tights, only her naked body.
The shaking is the only gentleness she is afforded, as the madam hits her back with a cane, running toward the studio. Several students she passes on the way snicker at her, as she used to when seeing a girl being punished. Once they are safely inside the studio, she is not given a chance to warm up before being given multiple combinations to perform.
"Watch yourself, Natalia, watch how your fat shakes in the mirror and see what a failure you have become." She continues dancing, her feet already aching after only a few minutes.
"Natalia!" The woman screams. "Nat-"
She roughly wakes up, light flooding her eyes and Clint over her.
"Wha- Where am I? Where's the studio? I need to get back…" She mutters, not registering her new location as separate from the dream of the Red Room.
"You're in Avengers Tower, Nat." She flinches away from the name, hearing Viktoriya's voice once again. "Natasha? You're safe. Okay, fuck," he runs his fingers through his hair and reaches out for her hand. "Tell me 5 things you can see right now."
"Wha- What are you talking about? I can see just fine!"
"Just do it! 5 things you can see, right now."
"Uh…" She glances around nervously, not wanting to fail her task and be yelled at again. "The purple comforter we're sitting on."
"Good, that's good. Did you have that in the Red Room?"
"No, we didn't have blankets…"
"Good, four more things, Natasha."
"I can see… New York… Out the window. And… I can see the floor."
"Good, Tasha. Good, two more."
"A desk."
"Yes! You have your own desk here and you didn't there. Because here you can do anything you want - draw, read, anything. Okay, one more thing."
"I- uh… I can see you. Do you count?"
"Was I with you in the Red Room?"
"No, Only nearby even that one time…"
"Good, then yes, I can count. Do you remember where you are?"
"Avengers Tower…" She replies slowly.
"Yes. You're at Avengers Tower and we are going to go have dinner with some of the Avengers."
"I'm not h-" Clint cuts her off.
"Hungry, I know. But we aren't doing that anymore. Remember, we are not in the Red Room and you have no reason not to eat here, okay?"
"I don't want to get in trouble there, though, Clint. You know better than the rest… That isn't going to end well for me. That's… That's what happened just now… In the dream."
"I know, Nat," he breaths quietly. "You just have to trust me. Please," he extends his hand out to her. "We are going to get through this."
"This is a long and hard road you want to go down. It's going to take years."
"For now, we'll just start with dinner."