Chapter 12- Feelings

*Natasha's point of view*

I ran. Clint was calling my name from behind me but I was too blind and too determined to get out of this room, this box that I'm stuck in. I couldn't wait for the elevator, I knew Clint wouldn't let me go if he caught me in the state I am in so I stumbled down the stairs, counting down the flights as went. 5 flights left."Natasha!" 4 flights left."Nat! Please!" 3 flights left. "Tell me what's wrong!" 2 flights left."Please Natasha! I just want to help!" 1 flight left."Nat! Your going to hurt yourself!" With that, I got lost in my thoughts and missed a step, sending me tumbling down the last flight of stairs. My head met the concrete floor at the bottom, I could feel the blood trickle down my face but I can't stop running. I stood up, knowing Clint was only 2 flights behind me now."Natasha! Your hurt! Please!" He yelled. I can't stop running. What has this guy done to me?!

I opened the door and saw my motorbike only a few metres away from me. I almost fell on to it, turning it on as Clint ran out of the Door I just came out of. My eyes caught Clint's, who looked worried as hell. I felt the tears and blood run down my cheek but I can't stop. I can't let anyone see me like this. I swiped my eyes away from his and continued leaving.

His smile...

The motorbike flew through the garage, Clint's yells becoming less and less. "Natashaaaaaa..." he yelled. Tears were flowing like a river down my pale face. I headed down the New York roads.

His eyes...

Rain smacked my face while Thunder roared above me. I weaved through the cars and the traffic, caring less and less for red traffic lights. I just want to be at home where no one can find me. No one. I heard multiple car horns and curses directed at me but I don't care. I just want to be alone.

His hair...

My apartment was only two blocks away but, of course, I got lost in my thoughts and drove straight into the kerb, throwing myself off the bike and onto one of the small side streets of New York. The floor was so damp but I was soaked. I lifted myself up and decided to leave my bike and run.  Running was more of a challenge than I expected because my knee was dislocated and I had a twisted ankle.

His stature...

I hobbled back to my building, pulling myself up the railings and hobbling to my door. 5A, top floor of course. I reached my hand in my pocket and pulled out my keys, which I struggled to put in the door and turn. Tears already flooding my red face. The door swung open and I slammed it almost immediately. I'm home.

Him.

I hobbled through the apartment to my living room, I frantically shut the windows and drew the curtains. I shut each door and locked all the ones I could. No lights were on and that's the way I wanted it. Nothing but me and the darkness. I stumbled into my room and locked the door. I threw my back against the wall and sunk to the floor, tears free falling down my stained face. Blood had dried on my face but I couldn't help but cry. My wet hair stuck to my face. A new cut from my bike accident lay on the side of my face, a huge gash leaking any blood I had left. My arms covered in cuts and grazes from the accident and my knee was throbbing.

I don't know what this feeling is. I'm terrified of it. What is it? It can't be love! I was always told that "love is for children"! There's no way I can love. He doesn't deserve someone like me. I can't have emotions. I can't. I truly can't. There's no way. I can't have a family.

I can't have a life. I shouldn't have a life. I shouldn't have been given the chance to become who I am. I don't deserve a life after what I've done. Memories flood through my head, playing like a broken record. The Red Room, those men back in Russia, they were part of the red room. They can track me. They know me. They know who I am. I don't deserve life. I should just run to some form of forest where I can end it all. Just end it. I am a burden on this world, I deserve hell. I deserve to go to hell.

I don't deserve Clint. He ran after me, he saved me. He is my saviour but someone like me does not deserve being saved. I deserve to eat a gun. Clint is such a great man, he doesn't deserve me, he deserves someone better, like Wanda! They can be the main friendship. He doesn't deserve me as a friend, he degraded himself when he agreed to help me, I'm just dragging him down. I'm just dragging everyone down.

And Steve! I don't deserve to know him, so why am I so.... so attached to him? Why is it that when I see him, I lose my mind and run? I can't get close to people. I shouldn't get close to people. If I get too close to Steve, I'm scared I'll hurt him, I'll scar him. I've scarred Clint. I've hurt him with my friendship. I don't deserve him. Steve is so righteous and happy! I'm so dark and murderous. Look at my past, I'm sure he has. Actually no, he probably hasn't, I mean he smiled at me which shows he doesn't know what I've done. The lives I've ruined. The pain I caused. I can not ruin his life. I can't get too close to him because all I'll do is hurt him or run. I'll just run away. I can't handle the pressure of a smile! How can I manage the pressure of being his friend? Or more? No. That wont happen. This feeling is bullshit. It's not real. I feel like I know what it is but it can't be. I can't love. Yes, he is attractive and yes, I'd love to be with him but I can't! I physically can't! I freeze or run! I'll run! I can't do that to him.

Anyway, what am I kidding? He will never love someone like me. Look at me! I'm a bleeding and crying mess that is sitting in the dark, waiting for it all to be over.

I saw the knife I keep on my knife stand and I reached over to grab it. I grip the handle, it floats over my wrist. Who would care? If I end it all now, who would care? Clint wouldn't. Steve doesn't even know me. Wanda wouldn't. Rhodes wouldn't. Tony hates me. Sam and Bucky wouldn't care. An empty funeral. Without thinking, I lowered my hand. Lower. Lower. The blade grazed my skin. I can't go no further. No further. I still have Red in my Ledger. So much red. I have to make up for it. I will make up for it. I lifted the knife and saw a pure red drip of blood leave the cut I had made. The knife was put beside me.

All was silent apart from my wimpers from crying. What would happen if I died? If I went through with it of course? I'm too scared to die, I'm too scared to live. I'm scared to get close to anyone but I'm scared of being loneliness. The only thing I can do is wait.

I'll just wait.

End of Feelings