Chapter Seven

Six Years Later

Wanda

Six years had gone by quickly for the Maximoffs, and surprisingly, the years were relatively normal. Wanda and Pietro received above average grades, and their social lives seemed to be fine, with a few exceptions. But the twins had drifted apart. It wasn't obvious in the beginning, but as time went by it was clear that they weren't the single unit many originally believed them to be. Pietro had his friend, and Wanda… didn't really have hers. The girls didn't like her because she played too rough, and the boys didn't like her because she was a girl.

Their father had been in and out of the picture. Every once in awhile he would show up, ask how the twins were doing, but it never seemed genuine. Wanda thought their father only showed up when he felt obligated to. Pietro was a different story. He absolutely adored their father, and he would bend over backwards for him if he was asked to.

But all was not well for Wanda. The visions and nightmares she'd had as a child were getting progressively worse, and it scared her. Not a single night went by when she didn't wake up frozen in terror or petrified in fear. She figured that was part of the reason Pietro didn't want to be around her much anymore. He didn't say it, but she knew she scared him. And that upset her. She wanted her best friend back.

But that night was doomed to be worse than any of the family members could have imagined. It had been a normal evening. The twins had come home from school, done their homework, and talked to their friends. Bedtime rolled around, and they headed to their rooms.

Wanda could hear Django and Marya arguing from her room. She knew they thought she and her brother were asleep, but she had taken to staying up to hear what her surrogate parents discussed behind closed doors. More often than not, they talked about Wanda.

"…Have to do something. She's not right mentally," Django said. His voice was muffled by the walls.

"I know, but we can't exactly do anything," Marya argued.

"Then let Magnus handle it," Django sighed. "She's a danger to herself and the rest of us."

Wanda felt tears sting her eyes, but she held them back. Crying wouldn't do anything, and it wasn't like they were wrong. She knew everyone thought she was crazy and that one day she'd hurt herself and everyone around her, but she didn't want that to happen. She wasn't sure when it happened, but eventually she fell into sleep.

The nightmare was worse than any of the others had been. She saw a man in red with white hair and red eyes. He rose among flames and tried to get her. Wanda tried to run, but she wasn't fast enough. She was never fast enough. Somewhere in the distance she heard a small voice calling her name, but it was too far away. She couldn't reach it. She remembered her hands glowing with some weird energy form, and she remembered the evil figure shrinking into a boy her age with silver hair and blue eyes and a similar face. She remembered screaming, and she remembered being snapped back into reality.

Wanda blinked as she tried to figure out what had happened. It took her several moments to realize she was in her room. It took her even longer to process the state of the area. Her windows were broken, letting in the cool night air. The scream… she remembered as she jumped out of bed and looked around. Pietro! Her blood ran cold as she realized in horror that part of her dream was not a dream, but reality.

She heard frantic footsteps running toward her. The door slammed open, revealing Django and Marya. "What happened?!" Django demanded. He glanced at Wanda before paling when he saw the other twim.

Marya covered her mouth with her hand. Silver tears trailed down her face. "Oh God…" She quickly turned to glare at Wanda. It was no secret in the house that Pietro was her favorite. "You did this!" she screamed. "This is your fault!" Her voice broke. Django restrained his wife before she could do anything rash.

"I didn't mean to," Wanda sobbed. "I didn't know…" She thought it had all been a dream. She wanted it to all be a dream. She wanted to wake up and have it all be one giant nightmare. She looked pleadingly over at Pietro. Surely it wasn't true… Surely she hadn't been the cause of her brother laying unconscious on the ground, blood trickling from an open wound on his forehead, chest rising and falling quickly and shallowly. She couldn't have caused it…

"Marya, call an ambulance," Django said. He had been the only calm one throughout the situation.

Marya shook her head furiously. "You do it," she seethed. "I'm not leaving."

"Fine," Django sighed. He released his wife. "Wanda, come with me." Without hesitation, Wanda ran over to him.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don't know," Django answered honestly. He led her out of the room, looking back only once.

Marya knelt beside Pietro, holding his torso close to hers. "Wake up," she begged. "Please wake up."

Wanda watched for a moment before running out of the room. She didn't stop until she was outside, under a tree. She curled into a ball and wept. Maybe the others were right. Maybe she didn't bring anything but destruction and chaos. "Wake up," she said quietly to herself. She wanted the nightmare to be over. She wanted everything to be a bad dream that she would wake up from. She wanted to wake up and hug her brother and Django and Marya and even her father. She wanted to go to school and learn. But she knew better than to believe that. She knew better than to believe it was a dream because it wasn't. Pietro could die, and it could be all her fault.