For the next two weeks every day was the same. Breakfast, the nurse checking my wound, dinner and then every other night or so Steve would come and remind me just how powerless I was. Natasha hadn't visited once, confirming that I'd pissed her off during her last visit. Probably due to how closed off I was. So now I had nothing to look forward to. Everyday I woke up either terrified from last nights events or just waiting for tonight to bring the terror that would haunt me tomorrow. It was an endless cycle that just over those two weeks destroyed whatever hope and light I had. Just because I'd been hiding it away didn't mean there wasn't some left, but the events of the last fortnight had snuffed it out completely.
The nurse had shown me my wound in a mirror yesterday, assuring me that it no longer needed dressing although I wished it did. The dark scar was in the shape of a cross, from the arrow, and it was ugly. I hated it. It would serve as a reminder of this awful place forever. But my attention was quickly drawn from that to my appearance when I shifted the mirror accidentally in my hand. My eyes were dark, as though they held nothing within them. Heavy bags hung below them, just adding to their darkness. I looked scary, unrecognisable was the girl who stared back at me. She saw no hope, just as she felt none.
(-)
A few days later I woke to a guard entering my room rather abruptly. "Get up. I'm taking you to interrogation." I sleepily rose from my bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor before I slipped some shoes on. The guard then motioned for me to hold my hands out, which I did, and he wasted no time in tightening the cuffs around them. I winced when he yanked them so hard my skin pinched, but the heavy handed guard didn't even bat an eye. Once he was more than sure that they were secure he nothing short of dragged me out of the cell, my feet stumbling at first as I was still half asleep.
After traipsing along several corridors, moving further through this maze of a building, we came to a stop outside of a door clearly labelled 'interrogation'. This was going to be fun. He scanned his ID and the door unlocked, only to reveal a table in the centre of the room with two chairs sitting on either side. Typical. And the room was cold, the floor black and the walls white with dim lights hanging above. I couldn't wait to go back to my cell; certainly something I'd never thought I'd want so badly.
He pushed me down into one of the chairs roughly before attaching my cuffs to the table. One strong pull and I would've been free, but there was no point in exposing myself like that and I had nowhere to run off too. Instead I just sat there in silence, unmoving, as I waited for whatever was to come.
About fifteen minutes later the door buzzed open again, and I was shocked to see the red haired woman step inside. She averted her eyes as she motioned for the guard to leave us, before sitting across from me once he had. I saw her finally study my face, see the darkness of my eyes and the bags that hung beneath them, how gaunt it looked since I'd wasted away since she'd last seen me. I hated how she was staring, unable to stop herself, so I dropped my head to look down at my lap. I felt so embarrassed looking this weak in front of her, again.
"So Y/N, how are you?" Her tone was cold and uncaring, as though we'd never met before. My heart hurt for a second at this, but I quickly pushed that feeling away. I was weak enough as it was, both physically and mentally, I couldn't afford to play into her mind games, or whatever this was.
"Fine." My reply was curt and I mirrored her tone, mine maybe being a little venomous, but this didn't seem to affect her as she got straight to business.
"How long have you worked for HYDRA?" My head snapped up to meet her eyes again. Natasha knew all too well that I hadn't 'worked' for HYDRA. I was a prisoner just as she'd been there, kept in a cell for hours each day, punished extensively and treated like an animal. But as my eyes bore into hers she didn't falter. What was she trying to do to me?
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Never in a Million Years |N.R|
FanfictionAt twenty one years old, Y/n Orlova's living memory only spanned the last seven years. All of them having been lived in the suffocating grips of one especially dark organisation; HYDRA. She'd become a slave to their hardening routines, truly believi...