A harsh light hazes your delirious vision, you try to focus on the sound of boots walking towards you, was it boots? Unable to make sense of the shapes and shadows floating around. You'd be scared shitless even if you knew how to be right now.
You scratch away at vomit that has dried on your chin, your head bobbing around as you begin to sober up trying to piece together thoughts and feelings.
The only feeling you have is the itch for more, and the feeling of utter disappointment that the sobriety that you held onto for so long was ripped from your grasp, and you didn't even put up a fight.
A warm hand rubs your cold face wiping away the hair thats stuck to your clammy cheeks as the cold sweat coats your body.
"Oh Chloe," a strangled sob comes from her mouth, you roll your eyes before trying to focus on her fiery red hair, she clasps a hand over her mouth gasping as she studies the needle that hangs out your arm.
You keep your eyes on her boots, convinced that its an evil trick that your heroin phased mind is playing on you. A mirage.
"Chloe?" She sniffles, trying to raise your slumped body up from the cold damp ground.
She pulls out the needle, kicking it across the room like a live grenade.
"Oh Chlo, I'm so sorry." Wiping away the sweat and tears that stain your pasty face.
You shudder as an acidic bile threatens to erupt from within you.
"Don't you fucking pity me Romanoff," you snap your eyes at her, "this is the real me." A whimpering laugh echoes around you as you slump into a heap against the wall.
Nat circles around you, trying her best not to pity you but she can't help it.
"Come on Chlo, we gotta get outta here its all going to shit out there!" Urgency reeks from her voice as the clatter of gunfire rattles past the door.
"Its all going to shit in here." You hold out a used syringe, laughing defeatedly through a river of blinding tears, every nerve ending in a heightened state of agony as the remnants of your high dissipates.
"Don't do that," she slides her arms under yours trying to lift you to your feet, "don't give up Chloe." Her voice is laced with frustration as she calculates the next move.
You shrug her off with whatever energy you have, you don't need this.
What you need is to be left alone.
To die.
Its what you deserve.
"Fuck off Nat, just...please...fuck off." You fumble around the floor clumsily for something, anything to put you out of your misery, as the haze wears off slowly. The mirrored look of utter despair written on Natashas face.
Nat lifts you up once more this time more violently, "Chloe Barton, you get your ass up and out of here, y'hear me? We have to leave!" She grits through clenched teeth as she drags you towards the door, refusing to give up on you, even if you have given up on yourself.
"Leave me here to rot," you try to undo the grip she has on your arm, "I'm not worth the time." Your voice is numb, monotoned. Like you have let go of who you really are and succumbed to the person the drugs made you.
The crackle of Natashas comms interrupts your stifled sobs:
Sam: I have Rumlow, Steve has The Winter Soldier on the bridge. He needs back up.
"Shit!" Nat calls out.
She grabs you by the shoulders shaking you vigorously, "Chloe, we have to go Steve needs us. He needs you." She looks up into your blood shot eyes, as you begin to sober up you remember that you were taller than her, though you didn't feel it now. Right now you felt like the smallest most insignificant person in the world.
Insignificant is the wrong word.
You felt like a burden.
"He needs you Chloe." She pleads with you.
"People always need me, but where were they when I needed them?" You stare blankly ahead into space, pitying yourself.
"I'm here Chlo, and I'm not leaving without you." She wipes tears off your chin, "but what I will say is that I think you'll regret keeping me from helping Steve too."
You shake your head, "I can't. If I leave this room then I'm just a junkie again." You words trip over faltering tears.
You are so fucking pathetic.
"Okay, thats enough." She pushes you out of the door, "see you are exactly the same person as you were in there, only difference is that this person is going to accept help and I'm going to be the one to give you it."
Her angry voice awakens something in you, shes not about the bullshit.
The hardest thing is to do accept the help.
Are you really worth all this hassle though?
YOU ARE READING
Baby Barton
FanfictionSTEVE ROGERS SMUT!!!!!! Also a chapter of LOKI FLUFFY SMUT BASED ON MY TIKTOK POV SERIES- KELBPOV - Chloe Barton, the black sheep of the family has been in prison since the age of 16, at the age of 21 and with many years left on her sentence she fin...
