Gone by Ghosts (Natasha Romanoff x OC)

~17~ Electrifying

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains violence, torture, blood, and strong language.

Kate's POV:

"Let me introduce you to your torturer."

His return has already put me back into an unhinged state of mind. While I had been singing about wanting to run away that perception had only been a tenth of what I am feeling right now. If I ever had some hidden superpower, as they do in movies, this, right now, would be the moment I would break the handcuffs apart and flee. Too bad this isn't a movie. Instead, I can feel the frustration about my inability to change the situation I was in growing inside. A conflict between fear and anger arises inside me. I can't lift my eyes to face the truth about what is going to happen next, even though I already expected it after I saw what is spread across the counter behind me. But mostly I can't show them the weakness that they would see if I looked up. The tear which silently runs down my cheek. I watch with hatred as it drops off my jaw and down on the floor. It betrayed me. I betrayed myself.

I can hear the man laugh. It's an arrogant laugh, free of empathy or even pity. The laughter is enough to make my anger about this injustice outgrow my fear of punishment. Enough to make me raise my chin and slur at this disgusting joke of a man. "Shut the hell up, old man! You laugh about a 16-year-old girl in chains but trust me when I get out of them you will stop laughing! I will cut that gross smile right out of your face. You sick bastard! I will-"

My rant is shut off by a shot fired, only closely missing my head. I turn my eyes away from the plump man to his side, where I look straight down the shaft of a Glock. I swallow the shock down and shut my mouth.

"That would be more believable if you weren't a 16-year-old girl in chains.", he says with a mocking tone that makes me bite down on my tongue. The fear is fighting its way back into my mind.

The man is coming closer and with every step my anger is suppressed more and my fear is becoming rampant. Yet, there is enough anger and pride left in me to resist the urge to look away. I watch his every move. His movement seems uncoordinated and random, how strangely his weight shifted from one leg to the other after every step without any sign of rhythm. It is almost childlike how heavy his feet hit the floor, but so much more terrifying. Nevertheless, his thinning grey hair doesn't move a bit. It stays in place even after the heavy impact from his trampling until he stands before me.

He lifts his hand and lets the tips of his fingers run along the side of my body where the blood from my wrists has left stains on my t-shirt. His touch disgusts me and I twitch when his warm fingers tickle my cold skin. I look at the ceiling just so I don't have to see his thick, hairy fingers travel along my ribs, just so I don't have to watch the corner of his mouth tilt up in pleasure.

His fingers stop at the rim of my sleeve and my head is pulled down harshly by my chin. I come face to face with my abductor and his dark brown eyes that gleam in excitement and make me look away -right past- him at the woman who is supposed to be my torturer. "Time to answer my questions, Katharina."

He basically spits out my name, while rolling the "r" in it in a typical Eastern European accent, and the realization of what his knowing my name means hits me like a brick. I was not mistaken for another target, nor another girl from the orphanage. He lifts his free hand and everyone in the room marches out the door. Everyone but my torturer who walks in the opposite direction, towards me.

Frightened I follow her graceful movement through the room until she steps behind my field of vision. He lets go of my chin, steps back and I hear drawers being opened behind me. Metal clacking and a sound similar to a person trying to plug in a charger. I brace myself to take in the pain that is going to come my way but my cover falls quickly when I hear the crackling sound of pure electricity.