A week had passed before Wanda showed up at Nat's door again. Ever since their last talk, more things within her began to surface, making it harder for her to open up, scared that no one would like what they would see. She spent the week debating on if she should or not bother the assassin. During that time Bucky would visit her but wouldn't stay long since she'd often tell him to leave, feeling like she was taking up his time, as if he had somewhere else to be or had something better to do than waste his time with her worthless self.
Even though none of them minded, she still could never bring herself to go. The same words kept repeating themselves in her head over and over again throughout the whole week.
No inconvenience is a minor inconvenience.
Though she knew the words were wrong, it still kept her from reaching out for help. But deep down, inside she was screaming. So when she finally showed up at Nat's door, a huge wave of relief washed over her.
"Two days after the shells hit, Pietro and I were found under our bed. What we thought were firemen, pulled the bed off of us and helped us out of our now destroyed apartment. We thought they were there to help us, to find somewhere for us to go but instead they separated us, sending us both to different orphanages. During that time, i was put in one thought process and that was to survive. The orphanage was strict on rules, there would always be a punishment. When you're in survival mode, your focus is on getting through the day in one piece. After being there for so long there isn't a lot of space for words like 'community,' for words like 'us' and 'we.' There's only space for 'I' and 'me.' In fact, words like 'us' and 'we' not only sounded foreign to me at the time, they sounded like a lie. Because if 'us' and 'we' really existed, if there was really someone out there watching and listening and caring, then I would have been rescued by now."
As Nat listened to Wanda's words, she felt like the witch wasn't just talking about then but also now. "How long were you two apart?"
She looked down at her hands and began to pick at them. "Almost a year." Tears streamed down her cheeks but she didn't sob or wipe them away. "What if this is how it's gonna be for the rest of my life? Fight after fight barely getting any room to recover. What if for the rest of my life i have to act stronger than i really am?"
In that moment Nat didn't know what to say. For the first time since the red room she couldn't figure out what to say. She took a deep breath. "Clint and i have been talking, and we think it's best if you go to an outpatients rehab." Wanda's head shot up with a confused look.
"You're sending me away?" Her voice was quiet yet scared.
"No. Of course not," she sighed. "You'd be staying in a rehab clinic. There's one just a few miles from Clint's house, you'd be able to visit them on Sunday's. This place will help you more than we could, plus it's better than a psych ward."
Wanda put her head back down, contemplating on what to do. If she stayed then there would always be the constant fear of bothering someone or the memories that would resurface. If she went then she'd have to start fresh, which didn't sound too bad too her. Starting fresh seemed fine to her. "Okay."
"Okay?"
She raised her head and looked at her friend with a smile. "Okay."
.........................................................................
The next day Bucky passed Wanda's room, only to stop to hear the guitar playing. The door was open and she was sitting on the floor with her guitar in her hands. She strummed lightly before singing softly.
(play song now)
Jours ensoleillés
Days in the sun
Alors que ma vie débute à peine
Where my life has barely begun
