𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘕𝘢𝘵

- CHAPTER 2

| CHAPTER 2 |
-
CATCH TO RELEASE

how to save a life
- The Fray

| 19TH MAY 2015 |

           WANDA STARED UP AT HER CEILING, recalling the memories she stored like keep-sakes. They were precious, like delicate sea shells, or an old framed picture. Wanda had nothing but her memories and no matter how real they could feel, they were nothing but the loose tail-ends of her sorrowful imagination running wild. Although, she scorned the night when it came, for the nightmares came with, taunting her with flashing images of Pietro as a child, the both of them wrapped up happily in their parent's arms watching sitcoms while the war waged beyond the window. Then, in these vivid dreams, Wanda felt the shaking of the building, and the bomb hit their apartment again. She watched her parents die before her eyes. She watched herself become that pitifully lonely orphan. But those were kept away for the night.

When the morning came, and when she'd shook her head to rid herself of the dreams, reality hit her like a bus, and often she wished to relive her past instead.

The clock beside her beeped on the hour. Wanda glanced lazily at it, and though her eyes gazed over the numbers she hardly paid attention to what they said. Natasha had forced a good amount of food down her throat throughout the past couple days, and Wanda thanked her for it. Even though eating fully was always going to take some getting used to, it had to be done - otherwise, there was just no telling how thin Wanda would have allowed herself to become.

Now, that was the other problem. Natasha. Her face played on repeat in Wanda's head, in the forefront of her mind. Not that it bothered her much. Natasha seemed just as curious as her. It felt weird to commit to the fact that Natasha had about six years over Wanda's head and there was the height difference to prove it. However, there was just . . . a sense of security that flooded Wanda's morality every single time she was hailed by Natasha's presence. Safety was a feeling she forgot about once Wanda had lost her parents and it felt strange, at the very least, to be welcoming it back into herself again. It felt foreign, obscure. Out of place. Like she had when she'd first arrived. But she'd found a home at the compound, with the Avengers and she hoped that her senses and awkwardly automatic feelings could come to terms with the new normality of 'strange'.

Wanda sat up reluctantly, brushing the hair from her face. Nails raked over her scalp as she pushed the loose strands away. That woman seemed to be the utter epitome of reoccurrence, and Wanda wasn't sure if she liked that feeling or not. It was still all as uncertain as it was to begin with, and often if something starts off badly, the rest is sure to follow suit.

Nothing tickled Wanda more that the idea of letting someone love her again. In fact, she craved it more than she did anything else, but she simply supposed that it had everything to do with Pietro being gone. Useless felt like an understatement, and there were no more words available to express her emotions. Wanda had been thrown into the sea of a raging storm without being told and now she was taking her last breaths before everything went to shit.

Maybe now was the time to shake that feeling.

Wanda rose from the bed and trudged over to the wardrobe that stood tall next to the empty vanity table. The wardrobe itself was bare, as Wanda's only possessions came in the form of the clothes she'd been wearing and any small trinkets she'd managed to keep safely in her pockets. But even those took up less than a draw. From the wardrobe, Wanda pulled a pair of leggings and a shirt she'd borrowed from Natasha and substituted them for her baggy joggers and sweatshirt. Having thought through this idea again and again, and deciding that it was definitely better to be proactive rather than inactive, Wanda wrapped her hand around the door handle and twisted it open. The metal was cold to her touch. She took a sharp, slow breath in and committed herself. She was doing this.