Death Doesn't discriminate from the sinners and the saints, it takes and it take, and we keep living anyway - Lin-Manuel Miranda

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TW's: PSTD, Immense guilt, flashbacks, death, murder,Suicide , and probably more.

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(POV revealed at the end)

Guilt the the fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime. Or in this case being a ex assassin who's killed more than they know. Their head spins flashing to when they've killed the innocent, the screaming the crying and the pleading for them to stop. the torture of the wails of victims.

In the night a normal night they sob in the bathroom muffled by the shower they threw on. Sitting on a clean toilet in a immensely expense tower that they don't feel they deserve. The guilt of the sudden silence cause by a loud bang, loved ones crying to the dead. But the loved ones are gone two, a few more bullets and they haven't broken a sweat.

The cleanup crew dragging the bodies away, looking out the window the predator longs.
Longing for anything but this, for a better life, normal, with loved ones of their own.
Knowing they would never reach the heavens where their loved ones reside. Forgotten voices, fuzzy faces memories of a past that's hardly theirs anymore.

No more would they hope for redemption for they knew their crimes were far too deep far too big.

And to live this long this far, ahead so far, told they deserve the world. How does one believe they deserve the world when they believe they deserve not even dust.

A type of self hatred that eats away at you tearing your heart, lingers in your fingers. the fingers that pulled the trigger, ruined nations. Eyes that calculated their victims weakness like a wolf. Muscles that broke the broken, damaged the damaged. And very few times did the victim denser even what came for them, no. The bystanders that had to go, the families that mourn funerals that should have never came so soon. Sisters and brothers who wish they said I love you one more time. Parents that thought they would never out I've a child on theirs. Spouses left with a life they can't keep together, not alone anyways. Children who cry for they mothers and fathers that never come.

And that's on them for these thought could be killed, in so many ways. Maybe a quick gunshot, or a fall off the tower... no that's too easy, too painless. Maybe drowning in the pool, or overdosing on pills not meant for you in the first place. What about the many weapons that lay in the building the self torture they believe should be given. Or asking a friend, kill me in the worst possible way, a backstab sounds nice.

But what happens after that their friends they leave behind.

What about the memories they've made saving just as many they have killed, what about what they have stood for.

And so the spider lives another day.

Natasha Romanov lives another day fill with guilt.

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Good God that was sad, and painful to write. But I had been thinking about the quote at the top so when you stop writing for a while mind as well make a bang of a comeback

This was originally written for Bucky but I felt like she needed the recognition, Bucky got his in Falcon and the wither soldier but we don't talk about her past enough.

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For those in the future who have watched the Black widow movie this was written at April 14th 2021 before the movie.