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𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦
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PAIN.
THAT'S ALL SHE FELT IN THE RED ROOM.
Pain.
The same nightmare, over and over again. She hated it. All she wanted was for the pain to stop.
She could still remember it. Sokovia. The nightmare. Every single detail of it.
There she was, in her widow suit. Going down the stairs. Of some random boat. On the African coast of the salvage yard. Everything became disoriented.
Natasha clutched onto the railing as she then found herself in the red room. Girls performing ballet, with their hair in buns as a group of little girls sat in the corner watching them.
Natasha took a step closer, then another, then another. She then found herself looking through the glass of the girls. A man in another corner, shouting "Again." Every single time they don't do it perfectly.
"You'll break them." She whispered.
"Only the breakable ones." A woman replied. "You're made of marble. We'll celebrate after the graduation ceremony."
Flashes went through her mind of the 'graduation ceremony' before she shook her head and watched the girls again.
"What if I fail?"
She remembered herself as a teenager. Shooting a target three times before switching to the other hand. Again. And again.
The target was then a man through her eyes.
"You never fail."
The man was whimpering, as several girls watched from behind the young redheaded teenager. She hesitantly raised her gun at the man and took a shot.
She looked away as a tear streamed down her face. She slowly opened her eyes again and looked at herself fighting a man much bigger than her. She was struggling. The same lady, looked disappointed at her as the man let go.
