Winter's Widow

Chapter 119: Temper Tantrum

Natasha's pov:

I feel bad again. Why? Why does this always happen to me? I panic for no reason, but I feel like I'm in some sort of danger. It's actually 10:00 pm. Not bad. But what do I do? Everyone is still awake, so I can't run away. I turned off all the lights in my room, and I'm sitting in secluded darkness. Wearing all black, so I blend in with shadows. The window is open, and the cold night breeze fills the room. It's dark and cold. Almost like being outside. Not quite, because I'm trapped. It's calm and quiet in here, yet I still want to scream. In the back of my mind, a little voice is telling me to run. Run, run, run until I can't anymore. I want to leave. I want to run. But I can't. They'll find me and bring me back to the tower. I don't know what to do. I just want it to stop. I want everything to stop. I dig my claws into my palm to get the feeling to stop. The room is really cold, but I feel almost numb to it. All I feel is panic. Panic to the point where it hurts. I grab the corners of the nightstand, and throw it across the room. It hits the floor with a loud thud right in front of the door. I grab the knife on my bed and throw it at my closet, and it sticks into the closet door cleanly. I feel adrenaline rushing. I feel my fists aching to pound against something. Someone.

"Natasha?"

I throw my fist at the closet door, and my fist goes right through it. Wood spikes scratch and claw at my hand as I rip my fist out of the door.

"Natasha?"

"What, Clint?" I snap.

"Are you ok? What's going on?"

"I'm fine." I respond blandly.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I growl.

"Those loud bangs. Did something fall?"

"Yup."

"...Are you sure everything's ok?"

"Yeah. Fuck off."

He hesitates, but then I hear him walking away reluctantly.

I throw my other fist into the closet, making another hole. I tear my hand out, not without light injuries, however. I go still and stop making all noise, even breathing. I can barely hear their conversation out there.

"What did she say?"

"She said something fell."

"Multiple times?"

"I guess..."

"What fell?"

"I didn't want to ask. Probably best I didn't."

I rocket my fist into the closet again, and pull it out instantly. I feel horrible still. I still feel dread. I'm bored too. I open the closet and grab out my sniper rifle. It's smooth and shiny. Metallic black. I've always loved this gun. I step back and fall back on the bed. I grab the cuffs on my bed, and lock one hand. I don't lock myself to anything, but I've got one hand cuffed in case I need to cuff myself to the bed quick. All I'll have to do is click the other end to the bed. I'm clearly not stable right now. I hug the gun tightly to my chest like a teddy bear and close my eyes.

"Natalia?"

I hug the gun tighter to me and press my face to it. I like the cold metal on my cheek.

"Natalia?" He speaks a little more firmly this time.

"What?" I grumble.

"Are you sure everything's ok in there? Can I come in?"

"I'm fine. No you may not."

"What where those loud bangs?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I'm coming in."