WandaWidow - Book 2

Chapter 9 - Reminders

Wanda POV

As I stood there, note in hand, I didn't know how to feel. I couldn't believe that she chose to do this again. It was almost as though she didn't hear a thing I had said to her. Leaving me was never the answer. She once accused me of running when things got hard, and not sticking it through, when really we hadn't yet hit the hard, and now that we had she was nowhere to be seen.

I had no idea how long ago the note was written. Had she just left, or was this moments after I had seen her last? I opened the door to the trailer for any sign of her, hoping I would see a flash of blonde in the forest, but there was nothing. The sky was bright and clear, and I could see right through the first few rows of trees. I was alone. I was completely alone again.

I returned inside and picked up what I assumed was the magnet she had mentioned. It was small, and didn't feel like it would do anything. I rolled it around my fingers, and brought it slowly upwards to the back of my neck. My hand felt heavier the closer I got, and before it reached its destination, I returned it back to the table.

I grabbed my cigarettes, noticing this was my last one, which earned a sigh. As I lit up, I sat at the table and focused on the key, willing myself to use it. All I had wanted was to be free of this, but now that the moment was here I couldn't tell if I was more worried about the magnet not working, or what I would do if it did.

I had nowhere to go, I had no one to be with. Anyone I was close to was out of my range of contact. I didn't even have a phone. Why did she do this?

I guess I lingered on that thought too long, as I was only pulled out my thought when the cigarette burned down to my fingertips. I instinctively dropped it, but quickly picked it up again and tossed it in the sink, turning on the tap to extinguish any remaining flame.

As I returned to the table, I noticed a small burn mark in the wood. Tracing it with my finger it brought back a memory I had considered long forgotten.

"Wanda! Pietro! Time to eat!" our mother called from the kitchen. I looked up at my brother, who met my gaze from his text book.

"Race you," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

Before I could even answer him, he was out of the room. As I followed and took a seat opposite him I could see the smug look on his face.

"I always win," he bragged.

"You're the only one racing," I laughed.

My mother took a seat beside me, and my father sat at the head, beside Pietro and I.

"My love, this looks delicious," my father addressed my mother, who smiled one of her huge warm smiles in reply. She really was the best cook.

Pietro had already loaded his plate with food, and began shovelling whatever he could into his mouth. For someone who was always so full of energy, he was also always hungry.

"Pietro, breathe," my father reminded him with a laugh.

It was just another day, another dinner, nothing special about it.

We ate, and then once my brother and I had finished our school work we went to bed. He, as usual, slept right away, but sleep was something I struggled with back then. I could never get my brain to turn off. I was prone to nightmares.

I never wanted to tell anyone about them, I didn't want my parents to worry. The content was always the same, and the more I considered it now as an adult, it felt more like a warning than anything else.

I tossed and turning that night, not able to get comfortable, and I noticed the light below the crack of my door. My clock read after midnight, and I was surprised. My father worked early, and my mother was always in bed with him. I wasn't sure why anyone was up so late.