Passive// Natasha Romanoff

[1] 8 Months Later

I pull the blue baseball cap down, shielding my eyes and some of my face. I keep my eyes trained on everything that's going on around me. The night is cold and crisp with a light and bitter wind that has a perfect kick to it. I walk down the sidewalk carefully passing people as they make their way from dinner and bars. The streets are crowded and full of noise and different types of drunks.

A group of about six or seven college students stand on the corner of the  street. Their laughs filling the air around them, me, and everybody else that is moving towards their destination. As I make my way past them they break up from their little group session. But before I completely walk past them I see the guy with the short brown hair and blue eyes grab the hand of one of the girls, pulling her down the dark alleyway. I stop in my tracks, turning my head to the right of me looking down the pitch black alley.

I debate whether or not I should go check on the young couple. I quickly shake the thought from my head and decide to move on with my night. But before I can escape away, I hear the cries of the young girl. I turn around and slowly make my way down the alleyway, clenching my fists tightly as I spot the guy trying to force himself onto her.  I move through the darkness, making sure that he cannot see me. I approach his backside, the girl quickly notices me and I motion for her to keep quite and too stay calm as I grip his shirt firmly.

I pull him back with a hard tug. He hit's the floor with a loud thud not knowing what has hit him. The girl smiles at me before she decides to escape from the situation. Her slender shadow trailing away from whats about to happen. I tower over him like a cat hovering over it's prey, his eyes widen with fear as I look down upon him. As I take a small step towards him he puts his hands up in defense, shutting his eyes as he begins to plead.

"Please. . . ." he whispers, "I'm so sorry  it won't happen again. Please, just let me go!"

I smile as I grab him by his black t-shirt, yanking him up off of the ground causing him to let out a sob. I let go of his shirt, tilting my head to the left. What should I do with him? I debate with myself as he continued to sob.

"Shhh," I murmur as I take a step back, "Everything's going to be okay."

He wipes the tears from his eyes as he stares at me, with a shaking voice, "Are you going to kill me?"

"No." I reply.

"Really?" He ask his voice still trembling with fear.

I step closer to him leaving only a few inches between us. "I'm just going to hurt you. . . ."

"Very, very badly," I smirk in amusement.

-

I open the front door to my apartment, the sound of the TV playing in the background. I step inside the decent size living room, my eyes finding Claire sitting on the couch. She turns her head to see me, her face lighting up as I walk into the kitchen.

"How was it?" She calls from the couch.

"It was fine." I say, grabbing a glass cup from a cabinet. "Thanks for watching him on such short notice. How was he?"

"He was great. I changed him, fed him, and put him to sleep." Claire answers getting up off the couch and turning off the TV.

"Fantastic," I reply, pulling out a hundred dollar bill from my wallet.

Claire leans against the kitchen island her green eyes looking at the hundred dollar bill I placed in front of her. I grab the bottle of expensive scotch from underneath the kitchen island, popping off the lid to fill the cup up half full.

"This is to much." She says pushing the bill back in my direction.

I take a swig of the scotch, setting the cup back down. I pick up the bill, leaning over the island to place it in her small hand.