A feeling...?

                                    

                                          
Words count: 1500
⚠️triggers: mentions of punishment
"You're done Natasha go to your room."  
I nod walking out of the training room. Today training was a lot harder than before, harder than ever, but I succeeded. 
Once I closed the door behind me a smile apeares on my face. Madame B was disappointed, that is what I was trying to reach. This meant no graduation ceremony for a time. 
I'm not stupid, they don't tell us what they'll do to us on the ceremony but I've heard older girls talk and I'm not liking what I hear. 
' When you're ready you'll take part of the graduation ceremony once you're done with that you can call yourself a black widow. Until then, you're a no one.'  She tells me all the time. 
I know I am a no one. Before everything maybe five years ago I thought that I could change something, that I could change myself.  But I lost hope after the years. Not all my hope though. There's still a little spark deep, deep in my heart that believes and feels that something's coming that will change everything. I just don't know when. 
I hate walking around here at night. Every light is off, which makes it harder for me to see also there are standing soldiers everywhere, not always or all the time some go get some rest after 2 a.m but still there are too many. 
Finally I can see the brown door of my room. I enter it and close the door behind me. 
Ugh. 
I love my room. It's the only place where I can get my peace and let all my emotions out but whenever I'm in here I feel like I'm in a box or something. It's pretty cold in here too even though I only have one window which is almost always closed. 
It's August and still warm but at night it can get pretty frosty in here. 
I sit down on the left corner of my bed looking at the ceiling as I feel warm hurtful tears roll down my cheeks. 
I hate it here. I don't want to do this anymore, it's just too much. All this bullshit going on, why do I have to go through this? Why me? 
I'm not gonna lie to you. Sometimes or better said always wish I'd still live in Ohio with my family. Maybe with a boyfriend? I don't really know what normal 21 year olds do.... 
I look at the clock. twenty minutes. I got twenty minutes to get ready till Madame B comes here to check and put those dumb handcuffs of me. I know that if I don't do it I'll get punished. I don't know what they would do to me but I'd get punished. 
'Discipline that's what it's called Natasha.' I remember her telling me a couple of years ago when I asked her why they were punishing a girl that didn't make it on time. I remember being terrified of what could happen to me. Seeing how they dragged her out of the room terrified, hearing her scream, terrified me. And of course I felt bad but at this moment I also couldn't stop feeling thankful that it wasn't me who was suffering so much. 
I get out of my training clothes and enter this awfully disgusting bathroom. I could have gotten a better room, well if I was a black widow but I'm not, so that means I'll be having to keep bathing in this stupid moldy for long or not such a long time. I don't know how much longer this little game will be able to go. That freaks me out... I need to figure something out before they do this to me. Before they fucking sterilize me! 
„You need to think Natasha!", I tell myself, feeling the cold water drop on me. I don't know what to do,  it feels impossible to escape everything here. 
***
"Wake up Romanoff!", I hear a cold voice say. Madame B. 
She walks towards me and stands next to my bed. As she opens up the handcuffs she says:
"I want you down in 15 minutes in the cafeteria." 
I nod. 
Cafeteria. You probably think that she means a huge room where awesome food is served. Well wrong. Bread and water. Sometimes milk if we behave. That's our breakfast. We're supposed to feel full the whole day till maybe 6 pm. Some weird ass disgusting soup is what they give us. Still not really enough. 
The official black widows get better food though. I saw once one while she was eating. 
But I don't want to be like them. What I get is far away from enough but I'm happy. Or just holding on. I don't even know it myself. Maybe a miracle will happen.  
I always make sure to be at the cafeteria before the 15 minutes pass. So I get ready and quickly walk there. Surprisingly there are not as many girls as I expected there to be, but it's still a lot. Girls my age, Teenage girls and also girls that are ten and under. 
You can see the huge difference. 
Maybe 20% or less are my age.  
30% are teens. 
50% little girls. 
It's awful to think that most of these adorable little girls might be dead in a couple of years. And that's the horrible truth of the red room. They bring hundreds of girls per week and out of hundred maybe 25 survive. Only the strong ones.  
Ballet comes first today. 
My hair is in a bun and I'm wearing a black leotard. I finish putting my pointe shoes on and sit on the floor. We already warmed up but I had to take them off cause it was hurting too much. Everyday, we dance everyday on pointe and it's killing my feet. And as if it wasn't enough, we dance from 6:30 am. To 10:30 am.! 
But I can't show my pain. Pain is for weak people and I'm not weak. While this girl called Anastasia is dancing I can't help but to look out of the glass door. Watching other girls dance stresses me out because they're stressed. Specially today. 
Today's one of those big tests. Once you start dancing it means dance till the end or you're dead. It proves how strong you are and if you follow one of the most important rule in the red room. 
‚You're never allowed to show your pain, even if it's killing you.' 
I turn my face from the door as I hear Ana scream. She fell and hurt her right foot. She fucked it up and she knows it. You can see it in her face. The fear, the disappointment. 
„Please let me try again Madame B...", she asks, her flooding with tears. 
„Please..", she closes her eyes in pain as she holds her right foot tighter. 
„Take her.", Madame B tells the two soldiers standing next to her. 
And with that they drag Anastasia out of the room. 
„Please, don't!", she shouts one more time before her voice fades away. It's silent for a moment until Mme B says: 
„Your turn Lea." 
„Close the door Natasha." 
I nod and walk toward the door. 
„Let me go! Sueltenme! Let me gooo!", someone cries. I know it's not Ana. This voice sounds more like the voice of a little girl. An angry little girl. Soon three soldiers walk past the room, one of them holding a young, 3 maybe 4 year old brown girl over his shoulder. Her brown curls hanging all over her face as she looks at me with her big hazel eyes. Her eyes shout for me to help her and it's like being hypnotized. I want to help her but I can't, that'd get me into too much trouble! 
The little girl keeps hitting the man with her little fists, which makes me want to help her even more now. 
"Imbeciles!", she cries giving up. I keep looking after her. I've never seen her here before and she's speaking Spanish and English not Russian. She must be new. 
"Romanoff! It's your turn come here!" 
I turn around in fear. Her voice kind of scares me. 
But I still can't forget about the little girl. There's something about her that makes me feel different. 
I don't know that's a weird feeling. It's like I have to protect her....
I need to find this girl. 
I turn back around as I hear steps. Again the soldiers. Just without the girl. Oh no, they left her in the punishments room. Poor little girl, I wish I could be there for her... help her... 
"Natasha, come now!" 
"I'm coming, I'm sorry Mme B", I say looking at the floor. 
Heyyy! So, this is the first part of  my new story! Let me know if you like it and what you think is gonna happen next!
Byeee!