tw: sexual and medical abuse (I was not planning on making this so dark and I have no idea how we ended up here lol)
word count: 1,7k
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Y/n' POV
"Natasha please, you can't keep doing this" I beg, watching as she grunts in pain. "It's nothing, I'm fine" she says, her voice weirdly calm and controlled. "This isn't nothing! You need to see a damn doctor!" I fight "Y/n, I've had worse! Now leave and let me finish up here!" she spats, pouring more vodka on the gushing wound on her thigh.
Sometimes I hate her. I know I shouldn't because she has this gut-wrenching panic from doctors and medical procedures but I can't control this feeling, I just wanna take her over my shoulder and carry her down to med bay to get her treated.
And it's like this every time- she goes on a mission, she comes back hurt and I find her bleeding in the bathroom. Just like now- she's bleeding like a fucking waterfall, trying to stich herself up with her shaking hands.
"Goddamn it Nat, I don't care if you had worse! You're badly injured and you can't fix it, you need a doctor!" I scream, feeling myself tear up. Why am I crying!? I run my fingers through my hair, pressing down my tears. "I'll be fine!" she argues "You're bleeding out on the fucking bathroom floor, Natasha! God, why are you so fucking stubborn!?" I yell
"Me!? Stubborn!? Look at you! I'm not asking you to be here, just leave me the fuck alone!"
"To let you die in here!? Yeah sure, alright, should I call the mortuary, too!? To let them scrap your corpse of the floor because you would rather die than go to a doctor!"
"Fuck off, y/n!"
"You got stabbed three times, I'm not gonna 'fuck off'! I swear to God if you don't pick your ass off the floor and come with me in the next ten seconds I'm gonna call a bunch of agents up here who are gonna drag you downstairs!"
"You're not gonna do that!"
"Oh yeah!? Watch me!" I yell, picking up my phone, ready to call Fury so that he can send agents up "How come you rather would quiet literally die than to go get help!?"
"Don't you dare go there!?" she hisses, the needle in her hand cracking open the skin of her hands as her fists clench
"Yeah well I want fucking answers, you're not dying on my watch!"
"You have no idea what they did to us!" she screams and the room falls quiet.
She turns to look up at me, her eyes filling with tears "You have no idea what they fucking did to us" she whispers, her voice betraying her. I let my phone slide back into my pocket before kneeling down to her hight. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that" I apologise genuinely "I'm just really worried and the state that you're in scares me". She doesn't say anything, her eyes shifting to her hands and before I can protest she continues stitching up the gash on her thigh. "I'm sorry Natasha, you're coming with me now, I'm taking you to a doctor" I say determined "Y/n, no!" she says, raising her voice "It's either me or a squad of agents dragging you down! I'm damn serious, right now" I say, the situation heating up again.
"I fucking hate you!" she spats, dropping the needle before letting me pull her up to her feet more or less "Are you done!?" I ask, hooking her arm around my neck and supporting her by her waist so she doesn't fall over.
-
We've almost reached the entry of the med bay as suddenly Natasha completely stops in her tracks. I look down and instead of a badass russian assassin I find myself looking at the sight of a scared little child. "Nat, hey" I mumble, gaining her attention "I don't wanna go, please y/n" she says in a quiet whisper "I'm right by your side, I'm not gonna leave, no one, no one, is going to hurt you, you understand? I will not let that happen"
I keep on walking and gladly she follows along so a couple seconds later we stand in the medical department of the compound.
"I need a doctor here!" I call out and immediately there's a gurney rolled over to the two of us. "What the hell happened?" Bruce asks, helping me manoeuvre Nat to lay on the gurney "Mission" Nat says "It's nothing, I'm fine". "Doesn't look like nothing, though" Bruce remarks, beginning to cut open her shirt "How did you manage to walk all the way down here with that? Cho! I need you over here!"
"Get your hands off!" Nat suddenly screams as the scissors reach the swell of her breasts "God, why am I here? Why am I here? I don't like this, y/n why did you brought me here?" "Nat-" I interrupt her spiralling "look at me, I'm right here, they're just gonna look after you wounds, okay? Will you let them do that?" "Y/n, I don't want this" she says, her fingers rapidly drumming a rhythm on the surface beneath her, a nervous habit she picked up at some point of her life "please, I'm scared" that part almost inaudible, not meant for anyone to hear.
I lay my hand on hers, stilling it, "It's okay" I whisper "They're just trying to help, no one will hurt you, I promise". "I don't need help, help is for the weak, I'm made of marble" she mumbles "I'm made of marble, I'm made of marble, I'm made of marble" the words falling from her lips like a prayer
Made of marble, made of marble, made of marble
Madame B's cane crashing down on Natasha's back, not a tear being shed
Made of marble, made of marble, made of marble
Strapped to a cold metal surface, the nine years old girl's bare body shivers on top of it. Strong smell of disinfectant floating her nostrils. "What a pretty sight" a rough voice from behind her says. A smug grin on his face as he trails a single finger down her naked form. His finger travelling from between her eyes to her mouth, slightly dipping in it, Natasha resists the urge to bite down on it and closes her eyes- he doesn't get to look at her- her saliva being dragged down her neck, chest, stomach, he stills just above her pelvis. "Open those pretty green eyes" he instructs, a fake softness in his voice, nonetheless she obeys, opening her eyes, starring past the surgical lamp at the ceiling "Look at me!" he yells, Natasha's eyes snap to his in an instant, her jaw clenches as his finger continues going down on her.
She tugs at the restrains, a grunt leaving her mouth- she should know better than that, they enjoy her pain, showing it just makes it worse, so she stills, starring dead at the man who's finger is in between her legs doing and touching things only Natasha should decide over, only Natasha should see and touch, no one other person should be touching her in places like that for years. She's a nine year old girl, for Gods sake, she shouldn't be abused and raped, she should be at home by a loving mother and father, watching movies and eating ice cream.
Made of marble, made of marble, made of marble
"Natasha" my voice snaps her back to reality "Bruce and Dr. Cho will be giving you local anaesthesia now before stitching you up, I'm right here, you're completely safe". It seems like something in her just snapped, tears beginning to roll down her face as she sobs.
"Don't take it off" Nat cries as Helen tugs a blue sheet under the waistband of her underwear, prepping the abdominal wound to be treated "please don't take it off, I can't take any more". "No one is taking any clothes off, Nat, you stay dressed as you are" I tell her, referring to the bra, cut up shirt and panties that she's currently wearing "Shh, you're okay" I try to coax her, my heart aching for her.
"No! No, please!" she sobs as she catches sight of the syringe with anaesthesia, she scrambles back into my arms, now hanging sideways off the table. "Get a sedative ready, please" I hear Bruce mumble to a nurse
"Please stop it burns" little Natasha cries and sobs as she fights against the restrains which are way too tight around her body. A third needle into the flesh of her thigh. "It's gonna make you strong" a 'doctor' tells her "I don't wanna be strong, please stop, it hurts so bad"
"Quit the crying" Madame B, who stands in the corner of the room, says, stalking over to the metal table Natasha is strapped to "or are you a weak girl". Horror washes over Natasha's features, she knows what happens to weak girls- she knows way too much for her age, she knows how to seduce old, fat men, she knows how to snap someone's neck, she knows how to make herself look 'desirable'. "No ma'am, I'm made of marble"
made of marble, made of marble, made of marble
Natasha doesn't fight as Bruce injects the sedative into her arm, it seems like she's barely comprehending what's happening. Jokes on me though, a couple seconds later she starts panicking again.
"Y/n, I feel weird" she states "something is happening". "It's okay, Natasha, just close your eyes" I tell her in a soft voice "No, no, no, I can't go to sleep right now, it's too dangerous" she says terrified. "No it's not, I promise you everything will be fine, just close your eyes" I try again "You don't understand, I can't sleep now" she cries, everything in her body fighting against the sedative and whatever they gave her in the Red Room helping with that "I can't sleep now, I can't sleep now, I can't sleep now"
But before anything else happens she's passed out in my arms.
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I wrote this yesterday night and I'm too lazy to improve this so you'll have to deal with my shitty midnight writing lmao
I try to write part 2 by tomorrow but I promise nothing