Alone - Wanda Maximoff

Chapter four

Nat POV
When I get up to the female floor I notice that Wanda's door is slightly ajar. I slowly walk over to it wondering what to do. On one hand I didn't want to invade the girls privacy but on the other hand I was truly worried about her. I stand at her doorway for a few seconds before slowly pushed by the door open. I peek my head in and am instantly confused. The room was a disaster compared to the last time I had been up here a few months ago. Wanda used to be an extremely organised person and her room always reflected that but it had looked like she had let it go.  I didn't judge though my room is usually a tip and being an avenger I know how hard it is to keep on top of personal affairs such as cleaning. I look around taking in the mess. There were objects sprawled everywhere and the curtains were pulled closed slightly causing the water room to be covered in a dreary darkness.

I spot some light being emitted from under the bathroom door and hear the slight sound of water running. Wanda was in the shower. I decide to respect  the girls privacy and leave her be, so I step out of her room and pull the door shut.

Wanda POV

As I step out the shower my feet are met with the cold, hard tile. I mentally curse myself for not putting down a bath mat. Oh well just another thing I have failed at today. I look up and stare at myself in the mirror. When did I become so disgusting?

Before my mind can spiral anymore I hear the sound of a door close. That's odd, no one much uses the female floor during the day. I try to push my curiosity to the back of my mind and not think much of it. Turning back around towards the sink I remember I have bigger issues to deal with. I bend down and open the drawer that I had become accustomed too. I feel around until I feel the cold object I had taped to the bottom and let out a small sigh. I quickly unstuck it from its position and held it up infringe of me. I examine the small piece of metal closely. Almost as if I was waiting for it to give me a sign. I know I deserve this.

Without hesitation I quickly drag the blade across my skin. I do this over and over and over again. I need to cut the voices out. I need to cut my pain out. I need it gone. I start to feel the familiar rush that calms me, so I stop. I look down at the damage. Shit. I quickly grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around my arm holding it tight. The feeling of euphoria had now subsided and I cringe at the sting I feel. A single tear trickles down my check as I hesitantly look up at myself in the mirror. At the helpless girl across the sink. What the hell have I just done?