Wanda sighed. She was so bored. She remembered Peter recommending something to her earlier that week. Maybe she'd try it out.

after a quick trip to the store, and sat down in her bedroom, telling her team mates she needed alone time.

Sighing, she picked up a pen and began to write.

Dear Pietro,

I still miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't.

I regret not saying things I should have. Such as I love you. I never said that enough. Perhaps it was implied, but still.

Even worse, I regret arguing with you. I never should've. It's too late now, though.

Peter recommended writing in a journal for when I need to channel my feelings, so I bought one to try it out. It's not bad.

I guess this can be my way of communicate with you. You won't see it, but it does make me feel better.

They are afraid of me. I don't blame them. I'm scared of myself, too. I try to hide it, but I can't help it. I can manipulate minds, I can control objects and people -I truly am a weapon.

If you were here right now, you'd comfort me. But you aren't. I'm alone here, no matter what they say.

Peter's here, I guess he is my sort of anchor. If I go too long without seeing him, I feel the collar. The burning pain, the smell of scorched flesh- and worst of all I see HIM. The one who did this to me. He comes closer and closer to me, repeating the words he said, making me wonder if it's true.

He always starts with, " You're friends aren't real, they're afraid of you! "

That one is true. That's why he always starts with it. He goes on, telling me horrible things, breaking me down.

The collar tightens, even though it's not really there. I slowly succumb to the memories, and Pietro, it's terrifying.

I wish you hadn't died, you selfish boy - you left me alone. OH look- now you've got me crying. Peter's going to hear because of his super hearing. He'll be all worried, and now I probably have you all worked up, too.

Pietro the Protective. You lived up to that name so well.

If you were here, your comeback would be something like 'Okay, Miss Wanda the Weird' or something like that.

I keep going on and on about the 'if you were here'. I can't help it. You were my twin, and every single day I expect to see you, eating cereal in the kitchen before dinner when you know you're not supposed to, but you aren't.

I want you back, Pietro. No one understands that. Steve is the closest because he lost his old girlfriend, but I didn't just lose you.

I lost a part of me. My happiness, my joy. The place you filled. Peter tapes clay there, which is my only way of describing it, and every time he leaves, he rips it off and takes it with him.

he reminds me so much of you. Sarcastic, funny, always smiling. You'd like him, If you were here. He seems to enjoy my stories about you. He listens, so I suppose they are interesting enough.

but you aren't. It's silly that I act like this is just a letter. I have to face it, I'm never getting you back.

I might return. Goodbye, brother.

Wanda

Wanda,with tears streaming down her cheeks, took the red notebook she had been writing in and slid it under her mattress. Peter came in almost immediately, heading her cries.

he sat next to her. "Were you writing?" He asked.

Wanda shakily nodded. "Every time I think or write about it, it plays over and over again in my head! It still hurts so much!" She sobbed.

Peter hugged her. " let's go get some nice, cold ice cream! " He suggested.

Wanda smiled slightly and marveled at how someone so good existed in a world full of terrible people.

I write in a journal daily so I thought Wanda might want to try it out. You should, too.

This won't be the last of Wanda the Weird and her little red notebook! *cough cough* Clint might steal it *cough cough*

Feel free to PM me about anything! Need help writing a story? Advice to give/receive? Questions? No problemo! Just ask!