Winter's Widow

Chapter 44

Natasha's pov:

Everyone is in thee living room watching a movie. I'm sitting next to Bucky with Clint cuddled up at my other side. It's pretty peaceful tonight, we've had no problems or anyone bothering us. Alexi hasn't even tried to contact me again. It's nice tonight.

On the screen, a scene of little girls practicing ballet comes on. All of them are wearing cute little pink leotards and tutus. I find it strange that none of them are covered in blood. Not one. They all look happy and relaxed. Their teacher is smiling. This scene is bringing back so many horrific, brutal memories. The uniforms we wore were black or red. I had a black leotard with a red tutu and shoes. Our hair was always tied into a bun with a little ribbon; mine was scarlet. Images of little girls in tutus covered in blood flash through my mind. Little girls with broken ribs. Little girls fighting each other with guns and knives. Little girls handcuffed to beds. Little girls fighting to survive. Little girls all fighting for the name. The Black Widow. Little girls all just like me. I am one of 28 Black Widow agents. I formerly worked for Hydra, but I escaped with my life. I was so tired of being a puppet. I had strings, but now I'm free. There are no strings on me. I survived, but now, I live with the trauma.

"Natasha!" I hear Clint yelling at me and I snap back to reality.

"What?" I breathe.

"Are you ok? What's wrong?" He asks, looking at me a little more than concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I only now realized that there were tears streaming down my face rapidly.

I quickly wipe them off with my sleeve. I also notice a stinging pain in my thighs. I looks down at my bare thighs and see blood. I realize that I was digging my nails into my own thighs.

"No, you're not, don't lie to me." Clint snaps.

I don't even respond. I just stare down at the blood flowing down my thighs.

"It was the movie, wasn't it." Bucky asumes.

"...Yeah. Just brought back... Unpleasant memories." I mutter.

"Why the movie?" Clint asks.

"I - uh- I used to be a ballerina." I look at the paused movie and see the little ballerina girls again.

"What's so bad about that?" Sam asks.

"Well, I wasn't your typical ballerina..." I sigh.

I don't even know how to continue. I look at James, but he's just staring at his own lap. I can't see his face, as his hairs hangs down and gets in the way. He's remembering things too, and I think the others caught on too."You were there." I keep looking at him, but get no response.

"Didn't you say he trained you in the red room?" Clint says.