On my bed sits no one else than Natasha.
When I enter she rushes to me. I mean why does everyone makes a drama, just because I haven't eaten?
„Are you okey?"
„Yes! Why does everyone asks me that?"
„Y/n, атка you haven't eaten properly since you're here. The only thing you have fully eaten ever were my pancakes."
I start walking through my room, making small tasked like hanging up my towel. Natasha always in my back.
„I just get full really fast"
„So fast that you're finish after exact 10 minutes, every time?"
I stop and look at her. Does she know? She can't she really can't! I mean if I would have the control over my power......but I don't have!
„What do you want to say with that?"
I say in a maybe to much rude tone.
„I just want to be sure that you're alright."
„I am."
„And I don't believe you. What did you say, in wich country did you live?"
This is a trap Y/n. Keep going on your profile.
„I am from Brazil."
„Than you can surely say something in Portuguese."
„Pare de me incomodar"
(Hopefully right otherwise my Portuguese teacher will hate me)
She didn't count with that.
I open the door and make a hand movement.
„Would you mind now getting your ass out of my room?"
„Y/n, listen to me-„
„No now you will listen: I don't want you to annoy or disturb me one more time! If you're not able to finish with your childhood, okey, but don't take your trauma on me"
That was to rude.
I clearly hurt her.
„if it's like this"
She storms out of the room and I immediately regret saying this.
After hours I go in the direction of her room. I still don't have new clothes, I just can't buy them without Natasha. For some reason I don't feel safe in public. My heart razes and get panic. Honestly I don't know how I was even a widow, right now I am just a failure.
I walk the way to her room, feeling the coldness. I press the sweater from Natasha more on me. It still has the smell of her.
I knock on the door when Natasha opens.
„Fuck off"
She's definitely angry at me.
„Natasha I am s-„
„I said FUCK OFF!"
„Natasha please-„
„Give me back my sweater, now that you got money from Tony you don't need it anymore."
That was a problem.
I slowly take off her sweater, I just wear a shirt under it. The plenty of scars on my arms getting revealed. I put my arms behind my back so she can't see them. I promised Wanda to stop, but I changed time so I never really did.
YOU ARE READING
It is easier to hate
FanfictionNatasha was always the preferred one. She is better in fighting, in shooting in basically everything. She hates her for this, maybe she is also jealous of her. The whole team preferred her so Y/n always was a single fighter. But hating someone that...
