TEN

973 39 7
                                                  

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆WHEN MARTHA MAXIMOFF WAS A YOUNG GIRL, SHE HAD MANY DREAMS

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆
WHEN MARTHA MAXIMOFF WAS A YOUNG GIRL, SHE HAD MANY DREAMS. She dreamt a lot of things. Travelling and meeting the man she also wished for seemed to just come to the top of her list. When she was only the young age of twenty one, Martha picked up her bags and passport and left the warmth and comfort of her home in London, England to help others in a poor developing country. Her parents didn't believe she had the mental capability to do it. They were led to believe women were inferior to men and were the vulnerability of society, alongside children. They laughed in her face when she told them of her dreams. Sure the family part seemed realistic. But travailing? No no. That seemed almost... foreign. In 1964, Martha found herself in a country that was filled with fear and hopelessness. It reminded her a lot of what her parents described the war to be like. Filled with misery and depression. She saw children wonder the streets in bare feet and barley wearing any clothes. She saw men try and abuse children. She saw everything.

Sokovia seemed hopeless. Violence seemed to lure over the small unnoticeable country like them plague. People were dying and for the first time in her twenty one years of living, Martha felt like the little girl her parents tried to make her to be.

Working as a nurse for a small time, she helped young children who were suffering with starvation and gave them a shelter in a small tent she also had to call home.

It was in the March of 1963 that Martha and Django met. She was vigorously trying to keep a young girl named Wanda's temperature down, the young girl had caught a nasty version of the flu and had an underdeveloped immune system meaning she was most likely going to die. The young girl seemed so innocent and pure for this life, she didn't deserve to die. Wanderer. She told Martha that she wanted to travel the world, to wander around this empty cold planet.  Django seemed to stumble into the tent with a nasty wound on the side of his body. The moment the two of them made eye contact, the world slowed down. He wasn't bleeding out and nothing bad was happening. Of course that didn't last long, especially with him bleeding out severely. She manages to patch him up all fine and well and right when he was supposed to be on his way, he just stayed. He made a promise that he will someday help her. A repayment for her saving his life. And the days bled out into weeks and then into months and the two found themselves falling deep in love with each other.

In the March of '65, Martha fell pregnant with Django's children. She was petrified. She was only twenty three and living in a dangerous part of the world. She knew she had to tell him. And that's what she did.

He didn't want them at first. Opposing that she should get an abortion or drink so she'll lose the child. It shocked her. How could he? That wasn't right. Even though it was a foetus, it still had life to live. So Martha stood her ground, yelled at Django that she was going to keep the baby and raise them however she pleased.

When she was 6 months pregnant with twins, she and Django make up and got back together for their children. She had barley thought about names but now she was, sitting right besides the man she loved as he stroked her prodding bump.

"Wanda, I want to name one of them Wanda if they're a girl." She muttered softly. Django nodded at his pregnant girlfriend.

"What about if one of them is a boy?" Django curiously asked the woman.

Martha thought for a moment, remembering back to when she met a foreign boy in school. "Pietro." She muttered softly. "A friend of mine always said that he'd love to have met someone with that name."

"And where is this 'friend'?" Django chuckled.

"Up in the sky with the angels." She softly whispered. That night ended with them cuddling and kissing as they stared into the Sokovian skies.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆
IN THE JANUARY OF '66, MARTHA WENT INTO LABOUR AT A VERY INCONVENIENT TIME. While making something for her and Django to eat, she felt a large amount of kicking and dismissed it as her young children's hunger. An hour later she felt it again, this time more painful. Then at 10:48am her water broke.

There were no Hospitals for her to deliver her children. Sokovia was still filled with violence and death. So she decided to deliver her children with her knowledge of childbirth. Django was nervous knowing he'd have to help his girlfriend give birth. She would cry out in pain and swear and all he could do was whisper that they'll see their children soon. It pained him.

At 11pm, her first child came. It was a boy, a little Pietro. Then 12 minutes later another angel was delivered. Despite the excruciating pain Martha was in, she reached out for both her young children, cradling them.

"My little Pietro and Wanda... my angels."

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆
"PIETRO COME BACK HERE YOU IDOIT! YOU'RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!" A young Wanda Maximoff yelled, running outside her house in Hawkins Indiana. She was trying to keep up with her brother who seemed to be running at a extraordinarily fast rate.

"Not my fault you can't keep up!" Pietro laughed hysterically. It was a snowy winters day and the young children seemed to be the only people outside. There was only a white van but they payed no attention to it. Martha Maximoff sat in the kitchen cooking some food and preparing hot chocolate for the little ones. Django was out getting more food for the family of four.

Martha only kept an eye off of them for a minute. And that's all I took for the bad men in the white van to snatch the twins and run.

Their screams were unbearable as they tried to reach for each other. "Pietro!" Wanda cried out, tears streaming down her face. The poor boy had been knocked out by a grey haired man. "Mama! Mama! Help!" Her screams were muffled and she was sedated.

"Sweeties, who wants some-" A scream left Martha's mouth as she stared at nothing, the mugs filled with whipped cream and steaming hot chocolate now discarded on the ground. The neighbours who heard her rushed out and all she could say was:

"My angels, my angels, they're gone."

Sarah Harrington, a woman who had recently moved in to the neighbourhood with her husband and son, tried comforting the woman as she wailed. Martha felt incomplete. Two large fractions of her were cut out of her heart.

Her precious babies were gone.
☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 | 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻Where stories live. Discover now