𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨

- ⧗ NATASHA ROMANOFF ⧗ -

NATASHA HAD KNOWN THE NIGHTMARES WOULD COME. On nights this like, when her past had escaped the shadows and crept into the forefront of her mind, the nightmares always came. And they always carried a punch.

This time she was thrown back into her time at the red room, just past eighteen years old. The scenario was recognisable instantly. Her final few tests before her graduation ceremony was to be carried out, before she would become a fully functioning widow.

Natasha's plan had been in place for months. Perhaps, if she were being honest, the idea had been there for years. Ever since she'd heard of the ceremony, Natasha had feared the day it would finally befall her. It would strip her of not only her autonomy, but of one of her greatest hidden dreams.

She knew the ceremony would ruin her, take even more away from her already devoid life. Afterwards, she'd have nobody else to be but the killing machine they'd made her. There had to be a way to escape it.

Natasha had begun slacking months ago; dropping out of her pirouettes in class, missing her target in practice, fumbling with the message she had to decode. Of course she'd been punished. Her body still ached from the bruises it had received, her mind still shaken from the torture it had endured. But it had all been worth it. At least, that's what she told herself. All of it had been leading up to this very moment. The failure of her final test. The KGB wouldn't want her if she failed, there would be no reason for her to proceed to her graduation. Maybe if they were feeling particularly generous, they'd put a bullet straight through her head right then and there.

As Natasha moved through the combat test, she pulled her punches. Her kicks held no power, mind a million miles away from the fight at hand. When her opponent got the better of her, arm tight around her neck, she didn't hesitate to tap out. Her shallow breaths were the only noise that filled the room. As she doubled over on her knees, the redhead awaited her fate.

"Sloppy."

The voice was cold, always so cold. But the next words were what truly sent a shiver down Natasha's spine.

   "Pretending to fail."

The breath in her throat hitched as her mentor's words fell upon her ears. Natasha stood up, eyes glazed over in tears. She knew. Even through all of her efforts, the woman was able to see straight through the girl's lies. Natasha should have known. Somehow the woman always knew her own mind better than she did.

Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest as footsteps made their way closer to her. Not only had she failed on purpose, but she'd also been caught. Whatever fate would befall upon her, it would not be as relieving as a bullet to the head.

In her peripheral, Natasha could see her mentor looming over her shoulder. That taut face that seemed to haunt her every movement. The redhead braced herself for the berating, or perhaps for the slap that would land across her face. But when the woman's next actions came, she found herself entirely unanticipated.

"The ceremony is necessary, for you to take your place in the world."

The woman's words were calm, almost welcoming. Her tactic held more venom than what Natasha had expected. Instead, trying to lure the redhead back in with the most sickening guise of what one may mistake as love.

But Natasha found her mind already too far gone to even register everything correctly. She slipped back into that headspace she had found, one that could shield her mind from the horrors it had faced. That cold and heartless persona took over.