/ TW's for everything the Red Room entails (rape, sexual abuse, torture, physical abuse, murdering children etc etc. Tread carefully.

GRAPHIC SCENES OKAY GRAPHIC

Italics are speech.

Everything seems stilted and words come in short snippets to really show how Natasha's mind of crude and pretty uncomfortable language. If I cringed writing I know you're gonna cringe reading it. /

Spin.

Spin and arms out Natalia, graceful.

You're a dancer, made of ice.

Not a monkey flailing its arms.

Pirouette and feet together, arms higher.

Higher, Natalia!

The crack of a whip hitting something soft.

Bright red flushing across pale spin.

A jaw setting and eyes growing glassier.

Again.

You want them to like you, to need you, to crave you. All you are doing is making me wonder why we keep you around.

I may be getting money for that little body of yours, and god knows you'll surpass your peers at the test but nothing is worth the embarrassment of watching you move like that.

Tight lips and eyes filled with tears that would never fall.

A little better.

Now again.

…

You're fucking beautiful. So sweet and tiny and fuck you're so damned tight. Filling that pussy up.

Bed springs creaking.

Slack jawed and eyes not there directed at the ceiling.

So fucking hot, thinking about that little mouth of yours wrapped around my cock drives me crazy.

Moans.

White hot pain from nails digging into skin and something too big in something too small.

Fuck!

Covering skin with discarded clothes.

Emptiness inside.

…

Too paralytic to speak.

Too trained to speak anyway.

Needles sliding into marble skin.

Burning through blood.

Agony like none before.

Mouth opened for screams that didn't come.

Shaking and vomiting and limbs contorting in unnatural ways.

The serum isn't working.

Then try the next one.

Either it works or she dies.

…

Snap her neck.

But she will die.

Do it.

Hands smaller than hers clawing at the flesh of her wrists.

Fighting for freedom.

Fighting for a life that never meant much anyway.

Bones cracking.

A popping sound echoing throughout the room.

Eyes still full of shock.

The dull thud of a body hitting the floor.

Clapping.

Well done, Natalia. You will go far.

…

Chained wrists and whispered confessions in the dark.

You're my best friend. My sister.

Sharing a single slice of bread.

The first in days.

You'll never leave me?

Never.

We can make it through this together.

Betrayal in terrified eyes.

A neck that snapped too easily.

Silence in bed that night.

Rolling over to find no one there.

A whole slice of bread to eat.

…

Shoot. And don't you dare miss. You know what happens if you miss.

A man on his knees.

Black bag pulled off his head.

Mouth gagged but cries and begs still escaping.

Pleading.

Metal in hand.

Fingers twitching.

An explosion of blood.

Hot liquid splattering across a face that held no emotion.

…

Drugged hazes and screaming until the voice ran hoarse.

Now stay still, wouldn't want to damage anything, would we?

Pain and terror and legs spread.

A man in gloves with instruments in hand.

Agony.

The metal tang of blood.

Children that would never be conceived.

…

Bruises and scars marring perfect skin.

Nails dug too deep, knives too blunt, failed murder attempts and over eager men and women looking for release.

Scars on the soul and mind.

Something that feels like freedom but isn't.

Fresh air with restrictions.

Lives taken without a thought.

Without hesitation.

Sleeping unchained in body but chained in mind.

Made of marble.

No place in the world.

…

An American with a bow and arrow.

Blood and pain but no fear.

A hand offered.

Come with me.

Sandy hair, blue eyes and bright smiles.

The only light in the dark.

True freedom.

Hope.