AN: A retrospective piece from the fantastically disturbed mind of Wanda Maximoff...the Scarlet Witch.
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DISCLAIMER: I don't own X-Men Evolution.
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Hei mihi, insanire me ajunt, ultro cum ipsi insaniunt. [They call me mad, while they are all mad themselves.]
-Plautus
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Insanity is a funny thing, don't you think? I never fully understood other peoples' definition of insanity. Honestly, the few other charges I've seen in my 6 years at the asylum seemed far saner than the doctors that were supposed to "cure" us. How do you define insanity? How can one differentiate a sane person from an insane one? Is the sane one supposed to be the one that has a more peaceful state of mind? That's not true. I know; I was insane once.
It's sad, really. Despite my mutation, I was a perfectly normal 9-year old when my Father stuck me in the asylum. A happy little girl who did her homework, played outside, hugged her father good-night and loved her twin brother to bits. Amazing how things can change.
The thing is, when you become insane, you know it. Regardless of what all the psychology textbooks may claim, you're perfectly aware of the transition you're making, and perfectly aware that it would be futile to stop it. You can't really ask for help either. If you tell someone that you think you're becoming insane, they stick you in a loony bin. I was already in one. I remember it quite well. I was 11 at the time. I'd been stuck in that hell-hole for two years, and a straight-jacket was my only choice of wardrobe. Fact: you stick a normally hyperactive little kid in a metal box for two years and treat her like some animal at the zoo, and she will become insane. You don't need a doctoral degree in psychology to figure that out. That's exactly what happened to me. The funny thing? I was happier. People who are mentally unstable usually are. I could live inside my head, and since there was nothing going on in the physical world for me, it was the greatest haven I could hope for.
It didn't last, of course. I was stupid to expect it to. Everything was fine until my 13th birthday, when I hit puberty. Puberty does weird things to you; to both your mind and body. For me, it was an extremely rude wake-up call. It was as if someone poured a bucket of ice-water on my mind and yelled at me to get up. I did. I was "sane" again. The doctors couldn't tell of course; those idiots. The bliss of my disturbed mind was gone, but it was replaced with something else, something so much better. Hello rage, hello hatred, hello desire for revenge.
My anger was like some sort of wound. It festered and grew till it consumed my very soul, till it was more tangible to me than the walls of my cell. I knew what was happening, of course. I fed it, kept it alive. I suppose I'm guilty of letting it swallow me up, but it was the only thing that kept me going while I was in that vulnerable state. I had a goal now. A new reason to want to escape from this pathetic prison.
I had always wanted to leave, of course. At first, I had dreams of going back home to Father and Pietro. They would apologize for leaving me and Father would have a very good reason as to why he did so in the first place. He'd give me a hug and take me and Pietro out to the park or buy us presents. Then Pietro and I would go play and at night we would cuddle up together and make up bed-time stories like we used to. He would tell me jokes and do those great imitations of his. He always did make me laugh.
Now I have very different dreams, dreams that fill me with so much more gratification. Dreams of pain and torture; not mine, of course. Never mine. I had suffered enough. No, these dreams still focus on my Father and my 'dear' brother. They are coated in red; that beautiful scarlet color that blood comes in. I cut myself sometimes, with my nails and teeth if I have to (they don't give crazy people sharp objects), just to see that marvelous color. It is the color my dreams are made of, and it is the color that my precious family will be bathed in when I find them. They will pay, I'll make sure of it.
I laugh suddenly, as those sadistic thoughts of pain run through my head. An orderly pauses and looks at me as if I am insane, causing me to laugh even more. He runs off to get a needle, like always. I'm drugged heavily, and put into a disturbed slumber, but I don't mind. Visions of scarlet fill my dreams, and I smile in my sleep.
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AN: Review, dear children...