Super short chapter today lovelies, hope you still enjoy it!
When you can no longer fight
When the gun falls from your hands
I will be there, you said.
I have your back, you said.
I promise, you said.
It never really works out like that
Does it, though?
She awoke, back in her cell, shaking. For the first time in her life, Natasha felt done. She was ready to give up. It would be so easy to give them the information they wanted, let them take her brain, and she wouldn't have to live with the fact that she had gotten Barton killed. Her stomach churned. It was her fault that he was laying in the mud, dead. She shouldn't have asked him to rescue her. She should've been able to get herself out. Her stomach churned. She tapped on the bar next to her, getting the attention of the nearest guard. "Take me to Razin," she rasped. The guard grinned, unlocked the cell, and hauled her out. Her vision began to fade as they walked, all she could see was what was directly in front of her. They passed through a set of swinging doors and into an operation room. There were large, round, bright flourescent lights covering almost every square inch of the ceiling, blindingtasha momentarily. She was forced down onto the table as was strapped down. She was no longer aware of what was happening around her. She already felt dead, which would make thing easier later. A mask was placed over her mouth and nose, and the bright lights faded away.
When she had become part of the Red Rooms, she had been brought to Razin and had her memory altered. He erased almost all of her memories from her childhood, leaving only a few bits and pieces of unimportant information. It seemed that Razin's plan was to bring back some of the more horrific memories, specifically, the day she was recruited.
The hallucination started soon after the anesthesia took affect.
It was a bright, airy, summer afternoon in Southwestern Russia. A five-year old Natasha, with a mass of curly red hair, laid in the grass outide. The front door of the house stood propped open, and inside, a woman with equally curly hair stood over the stove, stirring a pot of soup. She was humming something vaguely lullaby-ish, and she glanced every few seconds out the door and smiled at Natasha. When Razin had altered her memory, he removed all traces of her parents, so to see her mother again, for the first time, sent a rush of warmth through Natasha's unconsious body. "Natalia, moya radost, my happiness, come inside" Her mother's voice was sweet, loving, affectionate, unfimiliar to the tone of voice Natasha was used to. The young girl pushed herself up and scampered inside, immidiantly hugging her mother's leg. Her mother stopped down and pecked her forehead, and brushed back a loose crimson strand. "You are lovelier than the roses in summer, my little sun. Your father will be home soon, put the bowls on the table please." She continued her stirring, an handed a stack of bowls to Natasha. Her small arms quivered under the weight, but she managed to set them onto the table without dropping a single one. A cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, and Natasha pointed it out. Her mother stepped away from the stove and peered intently out the door. Her jaw clenched, and a worry-line appearded on her forehead. "No...no...Natalia..." she said hoarsely. She ran her hands nervously through her hair, a panicked expression came over her face. Trucks rumbled in the distance. Natasha looked to the horizon to her mother, curious. "Mama? What's wrong?" Instead of brushing it off, instead of saying, "Nothing, darling," her mother turned to her and said "I love you Natalia." "Love you, love you, Mama." Natasha replied innocently. The rumble of trucks increased, and the ground vibrated. A military convoy appreaded suddenly out of the dust. Men jumped out seconds after they stopped in front of the house. "Please...leave us be! She is too young, she is too young!" Her mother's voice shook, either out of anger, or fear, Natasha didn't know. The men reached into the back of one of the trucks and threw the dead body of Natasha's father onto the ground...or what was left of it anyway. His body was mangled, twisted, and so contorted that it was hard to see the flesh through all the blood. Her mother screamed. A man stepped forward, a scythe-like knife in his hands. Her mother searched the faces of the men desperately. Hope flickered in her eyes when her eyes fell upon a familiar face. "Ivan! Ivan! Ivan! Take Natalia! Please, run! Take her!" She screamed hysterically. The man with the knife stepped forward, and in one fell swipe, seperated her head from her body. Natalia, who had taken refuge behind her mother, began screaming and sobbing at the same time. A young man stepped out from the line of guards. He looked uncertain at first, but then determined. He sprinted to the house, scooped up Natasha, flung her over her shoulder, sprinted back to a truck, tossed her into the back, started the truck, and pressed the pedal to the floor. He was gone before anyone could raise their gun. "My name is Ivan Petrovich, young one, and I am going to help you."
Next one will be up soon! Look at me... bein' all productive and uploading stories and stuff. Once again, please review, and thank you Ildara, for your short, but very sweet review. You gave me warm fuzzies C: