In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships

Chapter 8

When you dream this time, it's that night again.

You're back in Westview, New Jersey, or at least a version of it that's forever in the midst of a storm. Yet, in the thick of the tempest, the familiar sights greet you.The deep hue of dark blue engulfs everything, while the moon casts its enchanting display of twisted tree shadows upon the room's walls. You don't see a calendar anywhere, but you know what day it is. The day you consciously removed your wedding ring while Wanda begged you not to leave her. It's the day your heart stopped beating.

There, in the bedroom you once shared as spouses, Wanda is kneeling on the floor, cradling your face in her hands, the gold metal band on her left ring finger burning against your cheek with how cold it has gotten.

But this Wanda is battered and bruised; a cut on her lip and discolored patches adjourned her once-pristine features; a chilling testament to the pain and suffering she's endured.

"Wanda, who did this to you?" you ask. Your fingers come up to gently graze the ugly marks. Wanda only sighs and closes her eyes at your touch; she seems to revel in the sting they bring to her fresh wounds. A seething rage simmers in the depths of your being, momentarily tamed by the presence of the fragile woman in front of you.

The cut on her lip stretches as a smile works its way to her lips, adding a touch of complexity to her expression. "Baby, don't you remember?"

As you gaze into Wanda's eyes, her question lingers in the air, stirring fragments of memories within your mind. The weight of her words hangs there, urging you to search deep within the recesses of your consciousness.

But she tells you anyway.

"You did."

Your mouth opens in horror. "That's impossible. I'd never–"

"It's okay, baby. It has to be this way," Wanda says, her eyes shining with sadness and resignation.

"Why?" you ask, your eyes welling up with tears and a few of them managing to slip free.

Wanda catches them with her chapped lips, tasting the salt from them.

"So we can be together again."

-

This time around, when you wake up, you remember every detail of your dream.

You think about calling Wanda. Maybe even seeing her.

But you don't think you'll ever stop hurting her if you do.

-

As Wanda slowly comes to, a harsh light hits her eyes. Blinking against its intensity, she starts picking up on the ambient noise around her. There's the steady beep of what must be some medical machine, probably telling the nurses she's still kicking. In the distance, she catches snippets of conversation—something about the meds she took. God, it's all a bit fuzzy, but she's fairly certain she remembers swallowing those pills before everything went black.

It wasn't her intention to wake up in a hospital. But at the same time, she's too scared to admit that waking up at all was the least of her concerns when she emptied a bottle of sleeping pills in one night. All Wanda wanted was to numb the pain. And it worked perfectly.

For three days.

As the world sharpens around her, Pietro's face comes into focus, hurt and confused. Wanda struggles to sit up, but her muscles, weakened from inactivity, fail her. Pietro gently places a hand on her shoulder, urging her to stay put.

"Hey, don't strain yourself," Pietro says, pulling his chair nearer to Wanda's bedside. "You just survived the darkest moment of your life, you know?" Pietro smiles softly at her, willing the wetness pricking at his eyes not to fall.