@worldloved some fluff <3
It was the gunfire that woke her up.
White-hot agony greeted her first, of course. For only a second, it sent Natasha back into unconsciousness -- or, she thought it did anyway. As the days dragged on, as the violence intensified, the humiliation aggravated, she'd been losing time more and more often. Drifted right out of her body, watched from afar as it was waterboarded, or beaten, or electrocuted, or had strips of skin methodically ripped off of her with a knife. Or worse. There was one thing that was worse, and of course they'd picked up on it.
So maybe she passed out, maybe she'd dissociated. Hard to tell. Didn't matter. More gunfire, the shattering of glass. The sounds traveled through the disgusting floor of her cell straight into her skull. If this was rescue, could they be a little quieter?
Natasha forced herself onto her front. Definitely passed out then, only for a second, as the all-consuming pain on her lower legs flared back to life. Cutting the Achilles heel on both of her feet had been the very first thing they'd done. The breaking of both her arms, the second. When they'd realized she could still crawl after them, they'd broken both of her shins. When even still she'd taken two of them out with a knife, they'd resorted to chaining her by the wrists and the ankles to the wall.
As she'd done the day (hour? week?) before, and the one before that, Natasha tried pushing herself up on her knees anyway. As it had happened before, and the time before that, agony had her sagging back on the floor. Something had been damaged deeper in her middle (broken hip? a result from the electrocution? from the beatings? from the other thing?), and the broken ribs certainly weren't helping. Falling back down sucked, though, because it only irritated further the already infected patches on her ribs where they'd skinned her. Would it kill these people to clean the damn floor?
