Red Rooms and Ledgers

Ptsd

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Noun
A condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.
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Corpses littered the dirty room. It was hardly ever cleaned because there were killings in it every day. In the corner of her eyes was her ballet shoes, she was just given a new pair of pointe shoes. They weren't broken in yet. The girls weren't either. It was unfair. Blood stained her hands, it stained her whole body. She tasted blood in her mouth, her own and her enemies. She was alive for now. She noticed five men and three women eyeing the carnage left in her wake.A congratulations was given to her as she flexed her fingers to rid them of the now dry and crusty blood. She was handed the pointe shoes, they had a drop of blood on them. It would be stained forever and it was her fault. She walked through the now unlocked and open door...
Into the exact same room. She set her ballet shoes on the floor by the door. She was older now, so was her handler, and her fellow widow. Her name was Sasha, she was her friend. They had stolen Khleb from the kitchen, they were so hungry. Stealing food was forbidden, they were going to be punished. Her handler locked the door to the room and stood in front of it. The punishment was clear, one must die so the other could survive. The fight was longer than anticipated, but they weren't an even match, Natasha was the clear victor. She killed her without hesitation, blood from sashas nose ran onto her hand. She was handed her pointe shoes. They were marred by blood once more.
Later that day she sat down for dinner, it would be Kasha with the Khleb that she stole. Except she wasn't given food, she was given something else, it was covered with a bowl. When she uncovered it, there was a heart, a human heart. Sashas heart. Everyone looked at her, and a handler spoke behind her. "Since you were so hungry Natalia, you should have no problem eating this." The repercussions for not following orders would be death. The heart was soggy, lukewarm, disgusting. It tasted even worse. She wanted to throw up. She finished it nonetheless, she was a survivor after all. "Your new pointe shoes Natalia, the old ones were dirty."

She was awake again, no matter how hard she tried her demons wouldn't let her sleep. The ghosts of her past haunted her dreams and nightmares alike and every waking hour was spent riddled with anxiety over her past. Clint and Fury were the only ones who knew about her past working the Red Room, but neither knew how deep her personal trauma ran. Her closest allies and coworkers couldn't see the toll that her red ledger had had on her, nor could they see how much she was suffering because of it. After being rescued by Clint and Fury, she went through months worth of psychotherapy to deal with her issues; but after last weeks mission, the problems came back ten fold.
The mission was a standard rescue and capture for the team; a group of hydra agents were running an underground spy ring. No one had been prepared to see a Red Room-esque operation, especially walking in to see 15 young girls handcuffed to their beds so that they couldn't escape. The mission provided a strong relapse into a ptsd that Natasha didn't want to deal with at her current moment. These feelings of anxiety and stress were not convenient to her, and if her team ever found out she would be taxed with more therapy which would also equate to less missions for her to complete.
Missions were important to Natasha. Missions helped keep her mind busy at all times, away from the train-wreck that was her life, they slowly wiped red off of her ledger, they kept her sane and distracted. She clung to these small victories and distractions with an obsession, the world couldn't hurt her if she was constantly on the run.
So here she sat, sweating in her bed, trying to control and calm the panic attack. The attack acted like a vice to her breathing, but sent her heart into absolute overdrive. The drumming heartbeat in her ears was loud and obnoxious, and she gasped for air as if the wind was knocked out of her. Hot tears streamed from her face and down her neck and she decided to focus on the water pouring down her face. Doing so seemed to work as her body went back to normalcy, but now she was faced with a new enemy, anxiety.