Possible & The Witch

The Stuck Bullets

Three Days Later
Wanda's Pov:

I still haven't slept.

It's been four days today, and I still haven't slept.

Little hasn't kicked.

And Y/N hasn't answered any of my reaches.

I'm so confused.

If they were dead, I would feel like something is missing from my body. Like when a limb is removed... the way I felt when Pietro died.

To this day, even with my misshapen memory, I know in my core that if he had been on another world when it happened I still would've felt the loss.

But with Y/N I didn't feel loss... I felt terror and pain.

Then... nothing but confusion.

It's like... I can feel them breathing... I can feel their heart beating that adorable backwards way... but... the beats are too slow. Their breathing is not on their own. Their mind is nearly shut off.

It's like a whisper in my ear. I can feel them.

But they won't reach back for me...

This must be what Y/N felt when I was captive. I finally understand their turmoil. It is much better to have the one you love with you, or know they are for certain gone, than to wonder if they are alright, and have no way to know that answer.

Something's happened to them. I don't know what. But they're not okay. I feel it.

And they're late. They promised me three days... they promised.

Today is- day- four.

And instead of them being home. All I can feel is the whisper.

The greenhouse collapsed practically on top of me and Nat, but Y/N's duplicate plants did all they could to get us out safely. Then the wall closed and went cold.

I'd never been so scared of a garden room in my life.

Now I can't be in our room by myself. I end up flipping through their sketch books over and over... making myself more stressed out and very upset.

I don't like sitting in the front room of the greenhouse because I end up staring at the wall that use to house my world... thinking about them... again making myself more stressed out and very upset.

So I've held residence in this chair in the den since Bruce was able to slow my heart down after the collapse.

I've got on my love's favorite long black hoodie, it smells perfectly like their coating of peach aroma. It and my sweatpants are the only comfort I can find right now. I've got my feet up as far as I can. Without crushing our baby. My hands repeatedly pull the ends of my sleeves over the tips of my fingers and fiddle with the fabric between my painted nails. The nails I've bitten off to the bone. Making my fingers bleed more than once. God I'm so anxious I can't stand it.

Maybe if she would kick I would feel better. She kicks for Y/N. But right now- she's so still...

I've had her checked already. Bruce couldn't tell me what was wrong with her, just that she was hurting, and now she isn't. She's just choosing to be quiet as if she's analyzing something. Her mind feels temporarily displaced under whatever thoughts make her quiet without her Mom/Dad.

She won't even respond to me. Normally I can feel her responses. Instead I feel nothing but fatigue.

My tears have finally stopped though. They just rest in the rims of my eyes waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.