She's Mine) Romanogers

Part 13) In Shock

Authors Note, another Eating Disorder/Body Dysmorphia trigger warning as well as abuse (sorry)

"B-Bruce," I stammered, immediately replaying my conversation with Clint and crossing my fingers I didn't say anything damning.

"What the hell was he talking about?" He seethed, he stalked forward to me and I pedaled my steps backwards. He grabbed me around the torso and kept pushing me back until we were at the door to his room. He held me against the wall with one hand and opened the door with the other, "get in," he ordered.

I was trying to process how my morning went so incredibly sideways when Bruce just grabbed my arm and threw me into the room. "What the hell?" He screamed as the door closed, I was stumbling for balance.

"Bruce, they've just noticed the weight I've lost, they're worried about it," which was true.

"And you locked your damned door, what did I tell you about that?!" He started to pace back and forth, all I could see was the green flesh spreading down the veins in his arms. "YOU DON'T GET TO LOCK ME OUT!" He bellowed as he turned fast, his fist connecting with my ribs and sending me flying back.

I slammed into the wall and then fell to the floor, I just sat there dazed and shocked. What had just happened? I was standing there one moment and on the floor in pain the next, Bruce hadn't actually just hit me, had he? I had to be making this up or this was a dream, I shook my head. "You're such a BITCH!"

"Bruce," I was trying to clear my head to get myself out of this and keep Steve and Clint protected in the process, "Clint knows me better than I know myself, he just gets worried when my weight drops."

"Why? You needed to lose the pounds anyways," Bruce stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I didn't have the mental energy to process this, I had to keep Clint safe given that Bruce seemed pretty targeted on him. "You're not his problem, you are my issue," Bruce raged on and continued to pace.

"He's going to be gone at the farm for a few weeks, we don't need to worry about him," I was praying Bruce would buy this, if he even looked at Clint's family I would find a way to kill him myself.

"You're right," he tried to calm himself down. I realized quickly that my breathing was hurting, I didn't know if I should try to get up or if it would make things worse. "But if he starts giving you shit about your weight when he gets back, I'll give him a piece of my mind and teach him to keep his nose in his own fucking business."

"That's fair, he's just paranoid because he's leaving," I kept defending him, "he won't make a fuss about it again."

"And what did he mean about you and Steve? What do you two have planned?" Bruce's target shifted right as I started to relax.

Shit, shit, shit. "Steve and I are just going over some new training techniques," I lied, excuses not popping into my mind fast enough. I hoped that worked.

"That reminds me," Bruce mused, "Steve and you went to that crepé place the other day."

My heart skipped a beat, "right, he just wanted to go try it out," I didn't think Bruce knew about that.

He stalked over to where I was on the ground and squatted down in front of me. I tensed so fast I was surprised I didn't pull a muscle, I felt like a deer in the headlights. He reached out and I flinched, but he didn't care, he pushed my shoulder so I rolled from my side onto my back. He patted my stomach and I felt physically ill, "it really shows, Natasha."

I didn't understand how this was all devolving so quickly, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have."

He moved his hand on my stomach and I had to look away, I was so ashamed, "fat bitch." He spat on me. He stood up and placed his foot on my stomach, I knew what he was going to do and braced, "let's shove that back in." He slowly rolled his weight to the foot on top of me, the pain increasing and the fresh hit to my ribs started to burn in pain.