'ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢʀᴇᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴏᴍ.'
_____ ⧗➳🕸️
Anzhelika Lukyanova is a thirteen year old Black Widow in training. She was orphaned at the young age of 7 months, and taken by the Red Room, who at the time were disguised as s...
TW: death, mentions to abuse, flashbacks, strong language
Sometimes, you think you can run away from things. You can leave them behind, and never come back. Like running through a maze, and after hours of running in circles, you stumble to an opening. You catch your breath and look up, only to realize you're back where you started.
You'd understand that. Wouldn't you, Anzhelika?
To say the previous night was a success would be something along the lines of a straight-up lie.
Anzhelika sobbed in Natasha's arms, confused and hopeless. What was she feeling? She didn't know. All she could hear was the quiet voice of Natasha, comforting her over and over like a subliminal.
However, over time, the redhead's voice started to drown out, overtaken by the voice of someone who Anzhelika thought would be nothing more than a demon of her past.
Dreykov.
The three words, "Don't fail me," ricocheted around her head, repeating again and again like a broken record.
Don't fail me.
And she wouldn't. She'd promised she wouldn't. She pictured the look on his face, walking up to his desk, Natasha's blood on her hands. How proud he'd be.
Madame B would finally stop mentioning how she was second to Natalia. No, Natalia could've only dreamed of being anywhere as good as Anzhelika.
It was simple. She could easily snap her neck. Run for the exit. She'd kill anyone who even dared to stop her.
Maybe if she did, she could be loved. Not just a throwaway, a waste of potential, the second-best who almost got there but they were destined to be shadowed by someone else.
The Black Widow symbol would be worn on her own belt. It wouldn't be an honor or an excitement. It would be a part of her.
His voice became distorted, his words twisting around her head, wrapping around her limbs. Eating her alive.
...
"Anzhelika?"
Anzhelika flinched, startled at the sudden wake-up call, seeing she was face to-face with Natasha. She immediately pushed the older women away, standing up and backing away.
"Anzhelika? Are you alright?"
All she managed to respond with was incoherent mumbling, looking down at her hands. The skin on her hands was no longer rough and calloused, it was smooth, the warm residue of vermillion blood painted all over it.
Anzhelika had heard stories of widows going insane.
She'd been there when the older girls in the group told the younger girls all about Headmistress Anya. How she was secretly an ex-Black Widow, who had gone insane and had her brain wiped as a result of it.
She had been the one to have slightly smirked watching the other younger girls start to get nervous when Headmistress Anya made an appearance.
It was all fake. Of course it was.
...
Was it?
Don't fail me.
Anzhelika must've done something because she heard Natasha mumble curses under her breath.
"Anzhelika you're letting him control you."
The younger girl's hand trembled as she reached for a table, pressing her weight onto it and slowly sitting down on the floor next to it.
She felt an arm wrap around her arm, and that was it.
⧗
The walls around her were plain brown, a soft but dismal brown. She looked down to find herself on a laboratory bed, cuffed at the wrist. Suddenly, the door opened, and in came Dreykov, an evil smile plastered onto his face.
He strutted into the room, sitting on a metal chair beside Anzhelika's bed, looking down at her.
"I need you to kill one more."
His voice was laced with malice.
Anzhelika just found herself nodding, unable to say no, just like always.
The man before her chuckled, pulling a slip of paper from his blazer. He unfolded the paper, showing it to the girl.
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"Not the best picture, I apologize. But I'm sure you recognize her."
"You have 24 hours. Do it or die."
⧗
Anzhelika startled awake. She looked down, instead of seeing a mattress she saw concrete, fresh blood staining it.
Behind her, scraping noises made her jump, and she turned around quickly, only to find that she was in that yard again. The girls in her old class all lined up on the edges of it, and standing by the door, Madame B in all her glory.
The scraping noise distracted her from them, as she turned to look at it. She caught a glimpse of two black plimsoll shoes. Two guards were dragging a body away from the yard.
Nadzeya.
Madame B spoke up, "Molodets." (Well done.)
Nothing was clear after that.
"Her heart rate's plummeting—down to 28 bpm and falling. She's bradycardic and hypoxic."
"We're losing her! Blood pressure's crashing—68 over 40. Prepare for intubation if we can't stabilize."
"C'mon Anzhelika... don't fail me now."
Authors notes:
FINALLY wrote anzhelikas dream
this is the last chapter before Anzhelika gets to smile for reals I swear !!
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I wanted to add this bc it's my first ever unsatisfied costumer and I'm cherishing it😸
in all seriousness PLEASE I beg do nawt leave inappropriate or mean comments or anything that we can see, fanfic creators are tired of it 😥 this story isn't necessarily going to be "thrilling", it's about a girl who was trafficked who has to learn how to overcome the trauma, not a fun night out with the avengers I fear
(no shade to the person who made this folder !!)
I apologize if you find my works boring tho, I swear I will write some fun stories 😸 I'm already planning some 😼
