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You often fought with your father. You never got along with him no matter how much your mother sweet talked you into talking with your father. Even as an eight year old, your conversation with your father would turn into a full out shouting match.
“I don’t wanna go!”
“Do you want to die an idiot?” Your father roared, but you were unaffected.
Your mother watched from the doorway as you clung your school backpack and shouted back. “I’ll only go to school if you give me a reason!”
He slapped you, and your mother gasped from the doorway but hesitated to do anything. “Go to school you insolent brat!”
You refused to let any emotion show on your face and followed your mother out the door. She didn’t say anything, and you didn’t say anything to her either. What kind of mother watched her husband hit their child and hesitate to do anything?
It was only when the two of you got in her car did she turn around with a concerned look. You refused to meet her eyes when she asked you a question. “Did something happen at school?”
And even in the safety of her own car, she never addressed the abuse going on in your household. You scowled and glanced out the window. “The kids are really mean, and I already know all the things they’re teaching.”
Your mother sighed, turning a corner. “Try to make some friends.”
“Okay,” your words were quiet and lacked sincerity. You were busy counting the building you were passing by, ignoring the sting on your cheek. It hurts, but you had long gotten used to the hits and punches your father often threw your way.
Turning another corner, your mother pulled into a parking lot, turning to face you. “I’m getting a cup of coffee, stay in here, okay darling?”
“Yes mama,” you whispered quietly, your eyes glancing at the digital clock in the car. You were late, but you didn’t say anything, watched as your mother locked the car door and walked towards starbucks.
You hummed quietly to yourself, pulling your knees up to your chest and laid your cheek on it, staring out to the parking lot. The sky was gloomy that day, and soon enough, the first drop of rain fell. You watched with fascination as the water dropped. Then it stopped and your mother was back with her cup of coffee.
She handed you a bag of ice and you placed it on your cheek, feeling the sting lessen. “You’re the sweetest daughter I can ask for,” she smiled, and you gave her a small smile.
The rest of the drive was silent and you continued to stare out the window. She pulled into the school’s parking lot, and you grabbed your backpack before waving your mother goodbye. “Have a nice day, darling.”
“Bye, mama,” you gave her another wave before walking into school. You were an hour late but you made it to class. Your teacher gave you a disapproving look but you ignored it, finding your seat in the back of the class, beside a redhead you had seated next to since the first day of school.
You think her name is Natasha Romanoff. She gave you a small smile and you smiled back before staring out the window and the clock in the back.You could hear the teacher’s words but you couldn’t really understand what was being said.
Sometimes you wondered what life was like beyond the rainbow, beyond the grayness of this world that surrounded you. You watched the window as the bell dismissed the class for lunch. They all cheered as they rushed out of the classroom with their friends, but you walked out, smiling slightly at your teacher as you walked out, your lunch box hugged close to your chest.
You found a spot under a tree that offered you enough shade, and you took out your sandwich, watching other children sharing food and goofing off with each other. You forced yourself to look away and sighed. Suddenly, a presence beside you made you glance up at the redhead that had been sitting beside you in class.
“I’m Natasha.” She said with such confidence you don’t know where she got it from. You gave her a shy wave and a nervous chuckle.
“I’m Y/n.”
Natasha waved back with an ear splitting grin and seated herself beside you. You watched with curiosity and uncertainty, and when Natasha stole one of your fruit from your lunchbox, you didn’t protest. She looked so comfortable you don’t know how to act around her. “What’s your favorite color?”
You tilted your head, wondering why she was still talking to you after a moment of silence. “Red.” You finally replied near the end. Natasha’s grin widened as she patted her head.
“Is it because of my hair?”
You tried to contain the grin that threatened to break out as you leaned forward and patted her hair. “No.”
She poked you with her fingers, causing you to giggle. “You’re lying.”
“Am not,” a pout spread on your face as Natasha advanced you, tickling your sides. Your giggles filled the air and you were gasping for breath. “St-to-op!”
“Say I’m right!” Natasha straddled you. You pouted and shoved her playfully off of you. You gave her a small smirk before you got up from the ground.
“I’m not sorry!”
Then you full out sprinted away from the redhead, who was laughing as she chased after you.
Fourth grade came faster than you would like and Natasha had spent every possible opportunity with you. The two of you were unbreakable, and you found yourself more comfortable around people. Yet you never opened up to anyone, not even Natasha. You knew how protective she is, and you knew for sure that she would personally murder your parents if she ever learned about your home life. So you kept your mouth shut and kept a hyper and happy attitude.
Yelena, Natasha’s younger sister, was in school now. And she is the most adorable girl you have ever met. Natasha often teased that you like her sister more than you like her. And sometimes it’s true. Natasha was so observant, she always seemed to know when something was wrong.
“Y/n!” Natasha called out. And before you had any time to process what was happening, Natasha hugged you from behind, kissing your cheek as a greeting. You smiled and turned back, greeting her with a hug.
“Hi hi!” You took Natasha’s outstretched hand as the two of you walked into school together. Yelena was trailing behind the two of you and you offered her your free hand. She took it eagerly, grinning up at you.
You glanced at Natasha, who gave you a warning look. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“Your sister is adorable,” you grinned cheekily. Yelena perked up in agreement.
“No she’s not.”
Yelena pouted, and you picked her up, kissing her forehead and whispering quietly in Yelena’s ear, but loud enough for Natasha to hear. “Your sister is a big meanie, don’t listen to her.”
Natasha crossed her arms, you set Yelena back on the ground when she saw her friends. You raised an eyebrow at your friend, who refused to look at you. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around Natasha, turning her around. “You know I’m right.”
“You’re not.” There’s nothing Natasha hated more than to be wrong, and you knew that. When she tried to turn away from you again, you wrapped your arms tighter around her, and you felt her body melt under your touch. She sighed and pulled away a second later, intertwining her hand with yours. “Maybe a little bit right.”
“Just a little bit?” You asked teasingly.
“Yes,” she pouted and shoved you playfully. You laughed, though it faded when Natasha turned away as your face twisted into one of pain. Your mind flashed back to the morning, when your father had shoved you against the closet. You debated telling Natasha about it but kept your mouth shut in the end. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
After your mother’s death, nothing at home had been the same. It was worse, and you were more afraid, always felt like you’re walking on cracking glass whenever you were around your father. You didn’t know what you could do, what you shouldn’t do.
You valued after school activities, as long as you could prevent yourself from going home too early. Although your father never cared and was mostly at work, you still tried to get home before six so he doesn't call the police on you.
Natasha didn’t notice your mood change as you tried to reflect on everything in your life, wishing everyday that something would change for the better. But of course it didn’t, because the world wasn’t fair.
And at the end of school, you delayed returning home again, lingering by the schoolyard. Natasha was waiting for her mother. “Bye, Natty,” you turned to Natasha when you saw a familiar car pull up. “I’ll see you in ballet!”
Natasha frowned. “I thought you were quitting ballet.”
“I was,” you shrugged nonchalantly. “I decided that I would give it another try.”
“But the teacher-”
“It’s fine really,” you smiled, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as you felt. “I’ll see you later.”
You kissed her cheek before waving and walking towards your bike.
Ballet was not something you were good at, and the more you took it, the more you felt like you were forced to take it. But you pushed yourself through, told yourself that it was what your father wants, so you’ll continue to take it. And it’s one more afterschool activity that would separate you from your father.
You were convinced that the teacher hated you, and you had learned to accept that fact. But when you went home crying again, your father slapped you across the cheek. “What’s wrong today?” He sneered, and you felt the burn on your cheek, though numbed after the amount of time it had happened.
“The teacher-”
“IT’S ALWAYS THE TEACHER!” He roared, and you took a step back, hitting the wall. But he advanced towards you, so he was towering over you. His breath smelled of alcohol and you closed your eyes when his hand made another impact with your cheek. There was something wet dripping, but you couldn’t tell what. “It’s all your fault.” He pushed you, and your eyes widened. “How come you never try? I give my everything to you and you never tried!”
“I TRIED!” You screamed, pushing him back. But it was the wrong move when he shoved you, and your back made impact with the ground. It hurts.
He scoffed at your state on the ground. “Not enough.”
Without another word, he slammed the door to your room and you could hear the lock clicking into place. You felt too tired to push yourself back on your own feet, a mixture of blood and tears soaking your bedroom floor.
Natasha left.
There wasn’t any word, she just disappeared and you wondered what happened. You heard the siren at night but you never thought it would be anything.
And now you stepped into middle school without a best friend, feeling more alone than you had ever been. But when you entered the homeroom, you noticed a few people you had known in elementary school, you smiled and waved politely at them, making small conversations before the teacher walked in.
You couldn’t really focus though. Ever since that day after the field trip, Natasha never went back to school. And when you went to her house one day afterschool, you found it exactly the way you last saw it, except this time there’s no trace of Natasha or Yelena. Police were surrounding the house and there were crime scene caution signs surrounding the house. You still wondered what it was.
What was so important that the whole family packed up in one night. What was it that made your bestfriend and her family marked as criminals?
They searched your house after, and you knew for sure your father would be angry. He shouted at the police for stepping foot in his own house when they didn’t have a warrant. So the policeman got a warrant and your father still shouted at them until a police officer was forced to restrain him as they went through your house. You watched as they tore through your stuff but didn’t say anything.
The policeman gave you a suspicious look and you just hugged yourself tighter. They left when they couldn’t find anything.
But your father started locking your doors again. So you learned to climb out the window.
Eighth grade sucks.
You were alone again, only a girl, Megan, in your first period science class talked to you. And occasionally Jessie from your history and PE class. Megan was the one you were closest to but yet it didn’t felt the same as being with Natasha.
You felt as if you were simply existing. As if the world was moving on but you were still stuck in the same spot. And life moves on, but you were stuck in that past where Natasha was still with you.
Megan tried to cheer you up, but she never knew what was wrong, and you never told her either.
You walked around with headphones, blocking out the world that seemed to be mocking you. And everyone seemed to be trying to tell you where to go and you were so tired.
You wondered if you will always feel empty forever, or would this feeling one day disappear. You hope it will.
Sometimes on your walk home, you found yourself lost in the familiar neighborhood.
You have no words to describe high school.
Sophomore years were the hardest, but with a school so big, no one would notice if someone is alone. And you could see not everyone has a group of friends, but almost everyone does and you wanted to be part of the crowd of theater kids, but the crowd that you want to be in doesn't seem to want you. And when the crowd you don’t want to be part of wanted you, what were you to say no?
You thought it would be easier if you had a group of friends to be with. And it was easier, yet harder in a way. You knew they weren't a good crowd, you knew they were a bad influence when you had skipped classes to hang out with them. And when they hand you a beer, you take it.
“Don’t be a scaredy cat, Y/n!” Jake, who was now clearly drunk, raised his own beer at you. You forced a laugh and drowned the drink in one whole gulp. You were afraid of being like your father, but once you took your second drink and felt the cheers around you, you found yourself drunk on the school ground, everything around you forgotten.
A wrong crowd was still a crowd, right?
Wrong. You didn’t know how wrong you could be as your grade started to drop even more. You were dropped out of your AP classes and you often fell asleep in class from the late parties that your ‘friends’ had invited you to. Your father was never home, so you stole the stash of beer and wine as well.
“Y/n,” your principal said sternly when you found yourself in front of her for the fifth time that month. “Is there something bothering you at home?”
You scoffed and crossed your arms, leaning back into the chair without a care in the world. Your eyes were red. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You had the highest grade in our whole freshman class last year, this year you seemed to want to break the record of the lowest grade and most skipped class.” She stared you down, and you raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I want to do that.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Principal Mayer sighed, and you rolled your eyes when you saw her leaf through a stack of files you assumed was yours. And there were detention slips in there as well. “You were the student president of the class council so I know you can do it.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to do it,” you snapped before standing up, shoving the chair out of your way and slamming the door on your way out.
That night, you found yourself in another party. And it was all going well until the policeman came in and crushed it.
You were drunk off your ass and couldn’t find a way to prove you were eighteen, not that you were eighteen. The policeman took your arm and took you to the police station when they found your stash of weed. You just laughed in their face.
Your father was not happy when he picked you up but you were too drunk to care. And you were too high to remember the punishment and pain you had endured throughout the night. The scars were there in the morning though, and you had never been more frightened in your life.
When you first opened your eyes, you found blood on the ground, your head was pounding, and the world was spinning. You leaned yourself against the wall and saw yourself in the full length mirror. Your gasped filled the air until tears were falling off your face and you were a sobbing mess.
What happened to the Y/n you had known your whole life? What happened to you?
You don’t know how long you sat there sobbing, but you felt better when you glanced up again. “What are you doing?” You muttered to yourself, leaning your head against the wall to support it. “You don’t deserve this.”
You repeated the phrase as you pulled yourself off the ground and towards your bathroom. You took a shower and dressed your cuts, dressing yourself in the familiar jeans and a blouse, feeling more like yourself than you had felt in a few years. Junior year, it was the end of your sophomore year and you shouldn’t waste junior year.
The first thing you did when you arrived at school was make a trip to the counselor's office, your hair done properly and your face with light make up. You didn’t wait for permission, barging into the office. Maybe a part of your bad-girl confidence was still there. “I want to change my courses and I will take all the summer courses required.” You placed a folder of paper on the table. “I know it’s late but I hope I can still apply for student council.”
Your counselor glanced up with a surprised look before she gestured for you to sit. Principal Mayer walked in a few seconds later, and she gave you a looked over. “Did you think about your life choice?”
“It isn’t the life I want to live,” you stated, sitting up clearer. “I would make it up. Make up all my work and retake a few courses during the summer if needed. Please.”
“We’ll have a few talks with your teacher.” Principal Mayer nodded, and you fought to contain the feeling of hope blossoming in your chest.
When you got home that day, you opened your piano, something you hadn’t touched in a few years. But there was an inspiration and you started singing quietly.
…Till she say to herself
“What are you doing? You don’t deserve this”
“Don’t you know nobody will ever understand
The person that you are, learn to hold your own hands
Get your shit together and lose the weight
You’ll never be what you want to, no, not with that face”
She started writing all of her thoughts on paper
Realized music made life so much greeter
100 pounds down, she looks so different now
As she plans her escape from a crooked hometown
A few years after you graduated med school and started your life as a surgeon, SHIELD hired you.
You don’t know why, but they did. And you joined. What you did expect was to see Natasha Romanoff there. The girl that you had known all those years ago.
When you first saw her, you were suspicious. She had just gotten back on a mission and you were treating her wounds. Her eyes widened when she saw you, but you still sat and let you sew her wound together. “Y/n.” She breathed out when you poked the needle through her skin. Her eyebrow war furred together. “How are you here?”
You didn’t reply to her question, just continued to do your work. “I didn’t know you were a spy. And I don’t owe you a damn thing after you left me suddenly that day in sixth grade.”
“I’m sorry.” Her words sound sincere, but you weren’t ready to trust her yet. Not when she hadn’t given you a single reason.
“Me too.” You replied coldly, standing up and giving her shoulder a simple pat. “You’re good.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at you as you started to clean up the space. You just nodded in response.
The second time you saw her was during the time Hydra had overtaken SHIELD. You guys all escaped to a secret hideout and you had been focused on making sure Fury stays alive. Honestly, you think he was an idiot often, and Maria agreed with you. The two of striked up an unlikely friendship.
“How is Fury doing?” Maria asked, standing by the door with her arms to her side. You gave her a small smile.
“Better. Good for someone who faked his death,” you glared at the still unconscious body. But his vitals were doing good, so you didn’t question it too much. He would wake up when he was strong enough for that.
Maria pulled up a chair to sit beside you, taking Fury’s hand. You watched. “He’s like a father to you.” You stated simply. She glanced up in surprise and you looked away in embarrassment.
“I had gotten used to reading people,” you stated simply. Maria laughed quietly, nodding sadly.
“Yeah… he is.” There was something hidden behind her words, but you tried to restrain yourself from reading too much into it.
There was another silence, before the alarm sounded and Maria gave you a final look and rushed out. You stayed by Fury, your fingers wrapped tightly around a gun.
The alarm stopped, but Maria wasn’t back for another few hours. Within that hour, Fury had woken up, and you had been treating his wound ever since.
“Can you stop moving,” you groaned when Fury tried to sit up upon hearing the sound of footsteps. You had your gun pointed towards the door, but it was dropped when Maria walked in with Natasha and Steve. Your eyes lingered on Natasha and you rushed to her side when you noticed her pale face.
Honestly, you cared more about Natasha’s safety than Fury’s. But he doesn’t need to know that.
Natasha grunted in pain when you started to check her wound. You gave her an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she grumbled, glancing at Fury. “Just get it out.”
You nodded and worked quietly. You gave Natasha a gentle pat on her shoulder when you were done. She leaned forward and you felt her lips brushed against your cheek. “Thank you.”
You could still feel her lips a few days later.
The third time you saw her, you officially joined the Avengers.
Fury saw more in you than you thought you had and when they started your training, they refused to let your talent go to waste. And that’s how you found yourself among the group of the mightiest heroes on Earth.
You often like to stay back in the compound or stay out of battle though, feeling more confident in your own element. Healing.
By then, Natasha had visited the medbay more times than you could possibly count. On a Sunday, you knew it was Natasha when you heard your door open. “What did you possibly do this time?”
“Steve punched me in training.” She stated simply. You gaped at her. And then came the laughter. Natasha frowned at you.
“You’re telling me, the famous Black Widow, got punched by Captain America?” You tilted your head as you handed her an ice bag. “What has been distracting you?”
“I don’t need a therapist,” Natasha scowled.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m simply asking as a friend.”
“If you’re the distraction, you can’t be the solution.” Natasha scoffed before leaving the room. You stood there wondering what she had meant from that.
“Did you get punched again?” You didn’t glance up, but you knew for sure it was Natasha.
“Haha,” she laughed dryly. “Very funny.”
You turned around. “What happened now?”
“I should start charging your rent,” she said confidently. You frowned, glancing around the room for the said thing that could possibly be Natasha’s.
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
Natasha groaned. “Cause you spent so much time running in my mind.”
You laughed. “Try better next time.”
You couldn’t stop the part of you that absolutely loves her effort.
“You look so familiar,” Natasha strolled into your room in the compound this time, not even bothering to knock. You glanced up from your book. “I could have sworn we had a class together.”
“We had every class together in elementary school,” you gave her a sarcastic smile. She didn’t looked to bothered.
“I could have swore we had chemistry.”
You closed your book. “Chemistry was taught in High school, but you didn’t sticked around for that, did you?”
Natasha’s eyes widened and cussed under her breath.
When Natasha approached you at a party, you were prepared for her words this time. You can’t believe she never gave up. “You must be one hell of a thieve, because you stole my heart from across the room.”
Clint burst out laughter behind you, and you had to pat his back to prevent him from choking. “You okay there buddy?”
He was still coughing when he answered you. “One, don’t call me buddy. Two, Natasha I know you suck at romantic stuff, but that was the most awful of pickup line I had ever heard-”
Natasha smacked him playfully, huffing as she walked away.
Clint was with you when Natasha approached you again. You tilted your head, wondering what she had came up with now. It had almost became a routine, and you knew you could forgive her. You knew why Natasha did it, you enjoyed the late night talks when the two of you would take turns telling each other your life story.
“I hope you know that I love you as much as Romeo loves Juliet and you’re the kind of flawless I wish I could be,” Natasha started.
You raised your eyebrow. “Was that two Taylor Swift references?”
Natasha blushed, and you laughed as you took her in your arms, whispering quietly in her ears. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” she sighed. And when you kissed her for the first time in twenty-one years, you felt the best you had ever been.
This is a story ‘bout a broken girl
With her headphones in just to block out the world
Where everyone around her telling her the way to go
So she walks the world alone
Wondering if it gets better
Of if she’s always gonna feel empty forever
So she gets lost tryna find another way back home
As she walks the world alone