The Mimic - One-Shots

Town meeting

Overview: Unsure of how to snap y/n out of her delusion, Wanda gathers everybody in the town. (This is a scrapped idea I had for 'Home'! It isn't canon, but it's always been something that has played in the back of my mind. Timeline wise, this would've been in place of the town fundraiser.)

Word count: 2,273

Warnings: Mental manipulation, mention of torture, angst

*****

As soon as y/n stepped into the town hall, the chatter in the room completely halted.

All eyes were on her. Some wide and fearful, some full of pure hatred, but they were staring at her nonetheless. No whispers, no movement, just staring. Waiting for her to do something, anything. It was extremely unsettling, especially for y/n.

Occupied chars filled the hall, much more than a typical town meeting. It was just rows and rows of eyes. Eyes that had their own thoughts whirring behind them, and faces that never wanted to crack a smile again. There was a wide divide down the centre of the room to allow easy access to the front. To where Wanda was stood.

Wanda had freed all the townsfolk from y/n's control. She'd woken them all up and asked for them to all meet her at the town hall. There was a singular promise that seemed to sell the meeting to everyone, and that was the promise of being able to speak their minds to y/n. To give their accounts, and to tell her what she was really doing to them. It was an amazing selling point, to be honest.

Y/n made eye contact with Wanda from across the room, her jaw clenching tightly at the gentle look on the woman's face. It felt like a set-up, an intervention specifically tailored for her, just so that everybody could nitpick her problems. She didn't need an intervention. Everything that she was doing was perfectly reasonable. There was no point in publicly embarrassing her in front of the town. Her town. 

Wanda didn't react to the fire in y/n's eyes. She simply gestured toward the walkway so carefully outlined by folding chairs. No words were uttered. Just a small eyebrow raise as she waited patiently for y/n to make her way toward the front of the room.

Y/n complied, but only because she didn't have another choice. Turning around and leaving wasn't an option for her. She was far too prideful to run away from a chance at justifying herself. It was one of her many downfalls. Always needing to get her two cents in, always needing to explain in detail how somebody or something hurt her. She was prepared to defend herself again, but what she wasn't prepared for were the onslaught of personal accounts. All ready to slander and tear her down.

Her footsteps echoed with every step down the lonely walkway. Chairs and people shifted with even a slight movement from y/n. All looking. All glaring straight into her soul. If the path to the afterlife was walking past all the people she'd killed, it would be the same feeling as this. Dread churned with anger and the desperation not to look anybody in the eye, yet she kept up a strong front the entire way. Her hands stayed calmly at her sides, fingers not even fiddling with the frayed hem of her yellow dress. Darlene was a respectable woman, and y/n was going to keep up that front.

Without uttering a word, Wanda guided y/n toward the speech podium. The one that y/n had stood behind many times and delivered her the weekly town news to the rest of the committee. There was a plastic cup of water settled on it, but no paper. No lines to read, nothing. She was just on full display for the entire town to see.