Winter's Widow

Chapter 60

I actually kinda like this chapter, I hope you do too =3

Natasha's pov:

Natalia is gone.

It's all too much. I can't take it. I can't handle it. Yes I can, I'm the Black Widow. I was built to survive. I was built to win. No tears were supposed to be shed. How did this happen? Why am I feeling these things? I am supposed to be a robot. Hydra was promised a machine. But instead, they got the pathetic useless scrap that is me. I can't take it all. The stress and fear. What if they find me? What if they leave me? These people are the closest thing I've ever had to a family. What if I lose them? What if Hydra takes me back? What would I do? I can't take it all.

Yes I can. I can handle anything. I'm the Black Widow. I was built for this.

But even machines break, right?

They shouldn't. And yet, here I am. Laying on my bed silently waiting for it to end.

Can I keep doing this? Can I take it?

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

I grab the red switchblade next to me and I examine it carefully. I press the button, and the blade pops out. I run my fingers over the flat side of it. I am overcome with the urge to test it's sharpness. I run the blade over my arm, and blood slowly flows out of the wound. It's actually a decent distraction. I flop my arm back down on the bed next to me.

Why am I here? I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve to be. I don't deserve to be surrounded by all these people. I don't deserve anyone. I should be burning in hell right now for my crimes.

But I'm not.

Why was I given a second chance? A third? Why have I been burdened with what seems like immortality? Is this my punishment? Is this my special hell? Probably. This seems like infinite torture to me. Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours. Hours become days, and so forth. It seems like an eternity. I guess I deserve this, don't I? I don't deserve any mercy for my sins. I just wish death would save me. Whenever death seems to arrive, I'm pulled away just before we meet. Why have I been burdened with eternal life?

I feel a cold hand wiping tears off my seemingly emotionless face. I didn't even notice him come in, I was too distracted by my thoughts. I feel him take the blade from my limp hand and set it aside.

I glance at his eyes, and only see sadness, pain and worry. I turn away and close my eyes, with the image of sad icy eyes stained into my memory. Why does he have to suffer with me? What did he do wrong? Show the man mercy, please. I feel him wrapping what feels like gauze around my arm. I look back at my arm, now nicely wrapped up. I look up at the soldiers eyes, expecting to see death. Instead I see something else. Is that... Empathy? The empathy slowly turns to horror as he looks into my eyes. The horror draws tears. What's he thinking?

Bucky's pov:

She takes a moment to examine her newly wrapped wound, then she looks at me. She stares me in the eyes seemingly void of all emotion.

Her eyes.

Her eyes. This is what I've been dreading for so long.

Her eyes. This is what I hoped would never happen to her.

Her eyes. My worst fear has finally come to haunt me in reality, and not just dreams.

I so hoped that she would never end up as bad as me.

As broken.

Her eyes.

So empty. Pale, dull green. They look like death. They show no signs of life at all. The light behind them is gone. There is no fire. No stars. No joy. No pain. Nothing. What once was, is now gone. She's seen so much. Too much. We all die, some sooner than others. They look like empty doll eyes. That's it. She looks like an old and worn porcelain doll. Void of emotion due to the many years of rough and merciless abuse. Her beautiful tough skin hides a hollow inside. Seeing her limp and fragile body lying on the bed like this further supports this comparison. An empty shell of something once wonderful. Merely a doll. Merely a toy. Someone else's toy. She was owned and abused. After abandonment, she lost herself. Just a broken, empty toy.

There is no light. There is no fire. There is no joy. There is no life.

There is no Natalia.

I lower my head as I feel the tears falling. I don't want to look at her anymore. But it's too late. The picture of her lifeless eyes is burned into my memory. This hurts. It hurts her too, but she can't feel it. She can't feel anything anymore. She's been beaten beyond recognition. I don't want to see her like this. So emotionless. So dead.

Natalia is gone.