a sad witch and a broken dame (A Wanda Maximoff Fanfic)

Chapter 5

(Author's note: I'm sorry for the confusion on some details. Wanda and Lizzie are two different persons, although, they may look alike but they're not the same and doesn't mean they're variants of each other. It was a mistake on my part because I used the characters' name and didn't create new ones. 😅 Let's just say Wanda has dark brown hair and Lizzie has short blonde one.)

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"Y/n," an old woman's voice called out to you. When you turned to look, the woman crouched down in front of you, the Legos from your tiny hands falling on the ground as she held yours in hers, then letting go when she began to cradle your face. She was crying and you had no idea why. "Look how much you've grown, my dear... You're so beautiful-"

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Your mom came running towards you, hands grabbing your wrist as she pulled you towards her. It hurt. You didn't know playing outside the house would get your mother mad. "Stay away from my daughter!"

"Please, I just want to hug her-" The old woman went on, her fingers ended up on your neck as they wrapped around you, your breathing restricted, gasping for air, shouting for your mom to help you.

You woke up with a start, raggedly panting as your hand held tight unto your chest. Light sweat covered your body when you straightened to a sit on the couch that had become your bed for the time being, while running your fingers through your hair.

Sleep had been easier back at the hospital when nurses would just come in and disrupt whatever nightmares would be lurking in the corners of your mind. But at home, they would dominate. It was a wonder how you hadn't gotten used to them even now.

Drinking a glass of water, your eyes drifted to your bedroom door, where Wanda slept. You and her didn't talk on the whole ride to your apartment last night.

Actually, there were only two words she let out the moment you both arrived and it wasn't even a thank you. It was 'What's this?'

Your confused tired state only stared at the brunette until you noticed she was holding a piece of paper in her hand - your suicide note. Immediately tugging the paper away from her grasp, throwing it in the trash can and answering back that it was nothing, you then began to heat the food you prepared for Wanda earlier in the microwave.

After you offered her to use the bathroom anytime she wanted and your bedroom as her own, Wanda didn't talk to you anymore. She didn't even eat the dinner you made, scared that you could be putting something in it along with the ingredients.

You couldn't blame her to be wary, especially when she almost caught you staring at her when she came out from the bathroom, her body only wrapped around with a towel, long dark brown locks dripping wet and sticking to her skin, and her long creamy white legs in full display as she silently walked towards the bedroom.

The feeling wasn't mutual because even when you knew she was a stranger and could be a murderer, you weren't scared of getting strangled anymore. If she was a murderer, then you got yourself even lucky.

What surprised you when you lay yourself on the couch, preparing to succumb to sleep, was Wanda crying. It wasn't that noticeable, it was a silent cry. You just happened to notice even the littlest of things, growing accustomed to living alone. And you could tell she was stopping herself from crying out loud.

You had resorted to crying before when you were sad. Sometimes, it would help. Sometimes, it didn't. Eventually, it was just a waste of time, making your eyes puffy and nose clogged afterwards but pain still present.

If you had superpowers, you wished you could take away whatever pain Wanda was feeling inside.

It took the brunette long to stop crying last night, having to listen to her sob into the darkness until it lulled you to sleep.