"𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝐸𝐿𝐷, 𝐴𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁𝑂𝐹𝐹."
In which Natasha Romanoff is actually The-Girl-Who-Lived, and has been talking to a voice in her head since she was a child.
(GOF - TBD)
I do not own Marvel, Nor Harry Potter. Howev...
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SPLASHING HER FACE WITH COLD WATER, NATASHA STARRED UP INTO THE MIRROR. She watched as the water dripped down her face, her heart still racing from waking up with a nightmare. Her hands shook as she gripped the bathroom counter as hard as she could – her mind going a mile a minute. Shaking her head, she stumbled away from the sink and made her way into her bedroom, walking over to her desk and plopping herself down.
She grunted quietly as her knee hit the corner of her desk, pain shooting up her leg. Shaking it off, she put her head in her hands and felt her bottom lip shake. Guilt. That's all she's been feeling these past couple of weeks. She felt disgusted with herself, for taking away the life of a young girl and possibly others, from when the bombs went off. How would her parents see her?
No, not her adoptive parents – her biological parents.
The parents who sacrificed their lives for her, who went out into the fields and fought for peace. How would they feel if they knew their daughter was a killer? An assassin. She may have done some good, but she's not a hero like everyone says she is. She's... God, how did Tom deal with this type of crap?
God, she missed Tom. she felt as if a part of her was missing, and found herself not being able to talk to snakes anymore. A part of her died that night when Voldemort pulled Tom out of her – it felt as if a piece of her soul was being ripped out of her body.
Her curtains fluttered as cool summer air came through the window – goosebumps forming on Natasha's skin. Yet, she found that she couldn't get herself up. She just... had to get these words off her chest. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, she set them down in front of her and began writing.
Dear Tom,
It's me, Natasha. I, uh... I don't know why I'm writing this. Perhaps this is my subconscious way of me saying that I miss you, and I miss having you around. I feel... I feel empty, Tom. A part of me went with you during that fateful night and hasn't grown back. You see, Tom... I'm no stranger to death; I've brought it upon many. You'd know, I'd rather not think about it at all, but... death is always knocking on my door. Sometimes, I wonder how you handle the guilt but then I remember – you're kinda a sociopath...
Lately, guilt has been weighing me down. I finally thought I would get to have my peace – to close a door to my childhood trauma... but all I did was make it worse. I took out Dreyko, but by doing so – I killed so many innocent people; including his ten-year-old daughter. I couldn't believe it at first as well - a man incapable of love having a daughter? But it wasn't. He was blessed with a beautiful little girl, who was one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I swear, every time I looked at her, I was reminded of Yelena and thought, "What if it was her?"
Speaking of Yelena, I found her, Tom; I found my little sister! All this time, I honestly thought she would've been dead, but... My little sister is tough, and as Mom Melina always said, "Pain only makes you stronger." It seems we both took that to heart while we were in the red room. I honestly don't know where this letter is going, but... It felt good to get this stuff off of my chest.
