The cave young Natasha fell asleep in was a small one. Beyond the mouth of it, the inside only extended a few dozen feet back. There was enough width provided to grant mobility. It was something the young girl found a great need for as she tossed and turned in her sleep. That rest did not come easy, however, as several nights passed where she remained conscious, blankly staring up at the roof of her shelter.
She did not leave the confines of her new dwelling, not even for sustenance while her energy dwindled. Her body grew weak and withered while her mind became stale. The act of focusing on one particular subject was too taxing. Her brain functioned as a pipeline that invariably dragged her back to the same place. When she thought of her exhaustion, of leaving her cave, even when she thought of drifting off to sleep again, a torrent of memories she'd rather forget came surging forward. Her fawn friend dead at her feet. Bella hysterically crying in a heap of misery. Natasha herself was unable to do anything until it was too late.
Natasha pressed her back against one of the hard rock walls that surrounded her. Rain or shine, she remained in that position as her face grew sunken and her body wore down. At times liquid despair escaped from her exposed eye. That wouldn't turn out to be permanent as horror gave way to an emptiness that tore through her like a train. Regaining her vitality became meaningless without motivation. Returning to liveliness lost relevance without a light at the end of the tunnel.
She clutched her sides and buried her head into her knees. The hair atop Natasha's scalp draped over her arms. Many of the strands had been marred with filth which accumulated over the weeks that came to pass. What had once been a head composed of brilliant green follicles resembled a clump of gray and brown. She looked and smelled like death itself. There was no reason to move. Not even as she wilted away and not even as footsteps approached.
"Huh, look over there in that wee old cave entrance. Ya see that," A strange voice announced. It belonged to an older woman. A slightly younger man stood by her side, both of them adorned with camouflage clothing and gear. They appeared rugged but not unkempt.
"Well I'll be damned, that little blond-haired shit was right. There was one of them in the area. Ain't she one ugly son of a bitch?" The man chuckled and took a swig of a metal flask he held, smacking his lips and coughing as he finished. He walked forward and bent down near Natasha, inspecting her and noting her damaged state.
"Careful Jordan, ya never know what these little weirdos are capable of. Even when they're all fucked up. An animal with its leg in a trap can still bite," The woman said from the background. The man waved her words off, keeping his vision locked on Natasha, whose lightless eyes hardly registered the person in front of her.
"Aw, don't mind her. Always was a paranoid one. You're a fine specimen, I think we could get a nice little earning off you lass. Now you even think of fighting back, I can promise that you won't ever walk without a limp again." He grinned, his expression betraying the venom ingrained within his words. Natasha didn't react. She weakly leaned her head back against the stone wall.
"Atta girl", spoke the man.
Retrieving some rope from a bag strapped to his back, he bound her arms and legs and hoisted her up. She was carried for a while before being dumped into the back of a car. When the cradle of sleep eventually enveloped her, she didn't even notice. All Natasha perceived were her eyes opening to the sight of steel bars and armed men patrolling a moonlit grassy field outside. The place looked to be an encampment with tents and canopies strewn about. She had been locked in a large box, the perimeter secured by strong metal. The floor was brownish-red, splotches of blood inked into the surface. Outside Natasha could see several containment areas much like hers. Silhouettes of people appeared on the inside.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness Natasha began taking in the features of the imprisoned. One was a man with human features aside from his head which resembled a slug. He possessed a soft, brown surface of sticky flesh that coated him from the neck up, and two antenna-like structures that led to eyes stood on top of his head. Natasha also saw a woman in a separate crate, and what appeared at first to be a large red mass on her face was actually a myriad of fly-esque eyes, each darting around in every direction with a frenzy.
Natasha crawled forward and pressed her face against the bars. She wrapped her fingers around the metal and shook violently. For years, she'd promised herself not to get captured this way. Yet all it took to break that promise unfolded in a matter of days. Natasha, in what could only be described as a feeble attempt, reached up to her face with her hands. Hatred clogged her reasoning as she tried to strip the moss and bark from her. Her knuckles turned white and her fingernails chipped and bled while she struggled.
"This is all your fault," she thought. "It's your fault I'm like this, it's your fault I got taken. It's your fault I look like this! If it weren't for you I would be free. I could have been normal and had friends and had a life, but you just couldn't let me! It was too much to ask to be born the right way!"
Harder she pulled, her relentless struggle showing some progress as her muscles screamed while they strained. Bits and pieces of wood and moss dropped down to the floor as the vegetation gave way to raw force and disgust. Blood seeped from her now shattered nails and bruised fingers but she didn't stop. The pain only furthered her desire to rid herself of her imperfection, if only because it paled in comparison to the hurt she'd endure if she kept it.
"Just come off already! It isn't fair, you know this isn't fair. I don't care if it kills me, it isn't like I'm really living anyway."
A large portion of bark dropped from her face, landing below with a clatter. She did not bleed from her wounds. Instead, a sort of sap drained out from the gaping hole. In response Natasha jammed her fingers into the entry, trembling in pain while she felt around near the inside of her jaw. She began to tug and pull, a crack emerging as she started to break off the mass of plant life from within. Her eye widened, the once green pool of hope now a red husk of its former self as it shed tears without pause.
"Oh God it hurts, it hurts... I just want it to stop. I need it all to be over, please! Please make it stop!"
The wood cracked and chipped while she pried it loose. She came close to ripping it completely free, her jaw and skin searing like they'd been engulfed in flame.
That's when her misery was interrupted by a soft touch to the top of her head.
Natasha quickly removed her hand from her jaw and threw herself against the back of the cage. Somehow a woman had gotten inside and without having cut the bars no less. She stood tall and featured long brown hair that drooped down over her shoulders. A plethora of piercings clung to her nose and ears, all the while the blue pools of water for her eyes provided a warm glow even in the dark room.
A river of blood and sap dripped down Natasha's arms. She didn't dare look into the eyes of the woman before her, instead opting to stare at her dirtied feet. The woman crouched down in front of Natasha and gently brushed her hair to the side. She spoke a few words before quickly realizing Natasha couldn't hear her.
The woman placed her palms against the sides of Natasha's head and produced a strange vibration through her hands. A set of binaural frequencies rippled through Natasha's brain like calming ocean waves and served to dull her pain and relax her body.
The woman backed away and turned to the bars, slicing them into pieces after transforming her arms into sharp appendages. After returning her limbs to normal, she delicately lifted Natasha and walked out with her. Although she'd already begun to drift off, Natasha glanced around and realized no guards were in sight. Instead, she witnessed multiple clones of her savior rescuing the other prisoners. Her head fell against the woman's shoulder, her anxiety vacuumed up by the same darkness that came with her slumber.
---
Holden settled upright in his hospital bed after his recovery had progressed enough. Natasha was positioned in front of him, yet another bundle of flowers in her lap while she sat. She held a somber yet hopeful expression as she finished tapping away on her phone screen.
"So that's how you ended up here, huh? What you went through was rough. Almost reminds me of," Holden began before pausing. He remembered what he'd experienced that fateful day. A child alone in the woods who clung to life through sheer willpower.
"Nothing, never mind. You must be pretty tough to go through Hell and come out on the other side," he said.
"I always said Melony is the reason I'm alive, but she gets annoyed and tells me to give myself more credit. She says the reason she only took me back was because she thought I was strong. Melony believed in my future. She still helped the others and worked with Carrie to make a dimension like this one where they could be safe. But she chose me, Holden. She chose me for a reason and I'll prove to her she didn't make a mistake. Melony and Jackson... they both helped me come a long way. I wasn't sure what I even wanted to live for before Melony found me," she replied."
"And does that mean you know now? What it is you want to do with your life, I mean."
"Yeah, it does. We've already been doing it for a while, freeing people like me in similar camps and compounds. Both Melony and I know that isn't a permanent solution though. We have to fight the disease itself, not the symptoms. We want to stop the major players behind operations like that. We want to show the world that people like me aren't monsters."
Holden offered her a slight nod of understanding. He wondered how she could remain so upbeat and cheerful despite the state of the world. The kind of attitude she maintained, in his mind, shouldn't be possible.
"That's a pretty lofty goal. Even if it sounds like one worth fighting for, are you sure it's realistic?"
"If I have friends like Melony and Jackson, I'm confident it can be done. I'm glad you're a part of us now. I know this kind of life can be overbearing, but the fact you've arrived here regardless tells me all I need to know about you."
"Is that so? I appreciate that I guess," Holden replied. He glanced off to the side briefly before looking back, a long exhale pushing through his lips. "I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. I know it wasn't cool. I guess I just... got caught up in the pressure of everything. I'm usually fine at accepting things as they are, but even I have limits."
Natasha playfully punched him in the shoulder, her flowers brimming with energy.
"I figured it was something like that. This probably goes without saying but I've had much, much worse said to me. It still feels nice to hear your apology. There are no hard feelings. Remember when I told you how happy I was that you didn't see me as any weirder than the other hybrids and cryptids you've encountered? When I said that, I meant it. That's when I knew that even if we had differences or didn't get along at first, you were a good person at heart."
"Yeah... glad we could put that behind us. And I suppose I'm fine with you positively taking that comment of mine. You're not too bad if I'm honest," Holden replied. "Oh and, one more thing. I know you and Melony were just on the outside world, I was wondering if there was one more thing you could get for me. I know I shouldn't be making requests but... could you teach me sign language? Maybe having one of those books you mentioned could help me study and learn it-"
Natasha's eyes brightened as she shook her head "Yes" at an impressive rate. She threw her arms around Holden the instant he finished speaking, squeezing him tightly. Only when he coughed in discomfort did she release, profusely apologizing before darting out with a promise of returning with what he asked for.
Holden watched her go with sheer bewilderment. "She's weird," he thought to himself. "Though I guess there are worse things than being a little strange." He stood up and stretched his legs, not wanting to remain idle in bed any longer. The thought of growing stronger still occupied his mind, and he didn't wish to lose any more time.