Untangling a Memory

Try to breathe

Natasha woke with her pajamas plastered to her body, soaked through with sweat. At first she thought she was shivering from the breeze of the open window blowing over the beads of sweat coating her exposed skin, but soon realized she was not shivering at all. Rather her body was shaking aggressively, muscles contracting and releasing repeatedly in violent spasms.

She felt disoriented, trying to remind herself of where she was.

The walls are not the cement hallways of the cellar, they are the vibranium composite walls of your bedroom in Wakanda.

Her words rang through her mind, trying to assure herself, but she continued to panic as she looked around.

Whose door is that? I don't want to know what horrors are behind there. This is too much.

She looked from the closed bedroom door to the closed bathroom door, and couldn't be sure she wasn't still in the basement of the building where she'd been raised.

Cold air. No, no, no. I don't want this. Let me go. I can't be here.

She could feel the breeze from the window and thought she felt the cold air spilling in from the room where they were keeping the Soldier. She was losing her grasp on the present.

I have to go. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

Natasha tried to get off of the recliner where she'd been sleeping, but as soon as she stood, her legs gave out from under her and she fell to her knees. She was doubled over with her hands on the floor in front of her, staring at the cement floor, inches away from her face.

Her breathing came hard and fast now. She couldn't control it. She couldn't control anything. She was in her body, out of her body. She was in the dark, stone hallway, then in her bedroom, and back again. Everything came in waves, in flashes, that rolled over her and overwhelmed her senses.

Natasha uncontrollably held her breath and then choked on it as she gasped for more air. Her fingers clawed at the floor in front of her as she felt that she was being smothered, but it was only by her own unyielding body. Tears ran hard and fast down Natasha's face, painfully burning her eyes and cheeks. Her muscles pulled around her as her body clenched, possibly in an attempt to protect her from an invisible predator.

Natasha thought she might pass out from the lack of oxygen intake, but still couldn't control her breathing. Finally, as she let out a gulp of air, she was able to spit out the choked words, "Call. Steve." before sucking in another hard gasp. The phone that was a foot away on the table next to the recliner rang quietly. She was barely able to unclench her body long enough to kick the table, shaking the phone onto the floor next to her, shattering the screen in the process. Thankfully, the call continued trying to connect.

"Natasha?" Steve sounded groggy. "What's up?"

Natasha was grasping at the ground in front of her again, nails trying to grip the cement floor to no avail. She was choking on the air in her lungs, neck muscles strained and face pulled tight.

"Nat, are you there?"

Her eyes watered, as she batted them softly through her pained face. She forced herself to release the breath, and before she took in another solid choke, she gasped, "help."

Steve, who had been laying on the couch where he was sleeping when the call woke him, now shot up in concern. He knew this voice, this sound. His blood ran cold.

"Ok, try to breathe, Nat. Slow it down."

Natasha cried harder, not sobs, but just tears running silently down her face. Her muscles in her body tensed and contracted. She wanted to escape and her body held her prisoner.