Gone by Ghosts (Natasha Romanoff x OC)

~12~ Your first time

TRIGGER WARNING: violence, restraint, panic and blood are part of this chapter.

Kate's POV:

Unknown, Unknown 11/??/2004:

A hit of cold washes over me and shoots me back to reality. My heart races and my eyelids rip apart, yet the world stays black, besides some bright blurry dots that dazzle my sore, dry eyes. Only when the constant sough in my ear stops, do I realize that it was there. Metal clacks and hard steps follow -each one louder than the last- before freezing cold water floods over me. Again. I gasp for air but I'm unable to breathe. Why the hell can't I breathe?! I try again and again but I can't find enough oxygen to satisfy my lungs. I fight my eyelids closing but the world is spinning so fast and my eyes are so tired that I just want to give in. The unconscious pulls me back into its embrace when all of a sudden, the black is ripped from my view and I wheeze to consciousness. The white light blinds me and I cough uncontrollably. My ribs hurt. My whole body hurts as my muscles cramp from coughing. After what feels like ages I can finally stop. Exhausted I let my head hang to one side, where my jaw meets my biceps. Confused I turn my head to look and that's exactly when I realize what position I am in. Not that I can actually see what's in front of my eyes, but I can feel my shoulders and wrists hurt from the strain of my body weight. And I can feel the way my toes only barely touch the ground. With my wrists above my head tied together, I'm hanging from... the ceiling, I guess.

I lift my head to look up but my vision is still extremely blurry. I blink in an attempt to sharpen it but instead of a sharp picture, I just received a sharp pain in my left eye. With the pain come pictures from a long, dark hallway, two shadows, and a fist. Loneliness and despair, the same feelings I had when I was lost in the smoke, follow close behind. What did I do that they would put me through this? I have nothing that they could want. I am nothing.

A light tickle on my arm drags me out of losing myself in pity. I can't see what it is yet but I can feel its warmth on my cold, bare skin. It runs down my forearm and my elbow but it had to make its way down my biceps in order for me to see the thin line of red that the drop of blood left behind. It runs into the arm of my t-shirt and down my side.
The sound of footsteps up ahead makes me lift my chin once more to try and see what or rather who is causing the noise. My left eye is hardly opened and hurts badly but with just my right eye open I can see relatively well. The footsteps belong to two men with ski masks over their faces. They're standing in line next to a door. Their eyes fixed on...Well, what are they looking at? Not me. Not anything really.

More stomps echo through the room. Damped by the door yet still very audible. One person alone can't possibly make that much noise walking. It has to be a bunch of them. All in the same tempo taking each step together. Except for one. They're a lot less audible but there are steps out of the beat. It all comes to a stop before one of the men inside turns to the door and opens it.

More men with military gear step inside and split off to the two sides of the room. They reveal a plump man in his forties. His attire, a suit, and glasses seem completely misplaced. He could just as well be a stranger on the street.

„Good. You're awake. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take you to wake up.", he addresses me with a thick east European accent.

He steps closer and something in me wants to shy away. Neither his physic nor his posture is particularly intimidating but he still inflicts some sort of fear in me.

„Warum bin ich hier? Was wollt ihr von mir?", I ask with almost no sound coming from my throat.

He reaches for my face and I try to turn away but he grabs me by my cheeks. He pulls my face back in front of him and his thumb pressed down on my left cheekbone. The pain that comes from the pressure on the bruise makes me flinch.