Chapter Text
“Drop it!” The doll's arm stretched in my hand.
“Drop it, you!” Pietro pulled the other arm and the doll trembled on our hands.
Geez, I was just as stubborn as Pietro, and neither of us was backing down. This would take a while.
“I am older! I can choose what I want to play, and I want the doll!”
“If so old, stop being childish!” he retorted. “Let me play with it, you grandpa!”
My eyebrows knit together and I felt my blood boiling. “Grandpa? You're the one who's the baby and doesn't want to admit it! Go play with the cars or with the ball. Drop it!” I shook the doll hard, my hands hurt from the friction caused by its fabric, but I didn't let go at all.
The boy held on tightly to the doll, trying to use his entire body to pull the toy out of my hand. “I WANNA PLAY WITH THE DOLL! YOU GO TO PLAY WITH THE BALL! JUST BECAUSE I'M A MAN I CAN'T PLAY WITH THE DOLL?! YOU ARE PREJUDICED!”
“Are you listening to the bullshit you're saying, Pietro?! How am I prejudiced in something like this without being prejudiced towards myself?! Stop talking rubbish!”
He stopped in place to think about what I said, and I took advantage of this moment to pull the doll again, causing this buffalo to fall on top of me. My back felt the impact of falling immediately, and he still hasn’t released the doll?!
“DROP IT, GET OFF, YOU'RE SUFFOCATING ME, YOU DISFIGURED WHALE!”
Despite his face being slightly frowned, trying to understand what disfigured meant, the maniac smiled at me. “DROP IT, MARENE! OR I'LL CRUSH YOU, AND TELL MOM THAT YOU'RE A BULLY FOR CALLING ME A DISFIGURED WHALE!
I tried to move his hand away from my face, turning this way and that, but he kept pressing me with his hands covered in dirt and paint.
Ah… this idiot was pissing me off.
“OKAY, DUMBO ELEPHANT, GO ON, TRY TO TELL AUNTIE I'M A BULLY! I’ll tell her how many times you called me ugly, she’ll KILL YOU, AND I'LL BE THERE TO LAUGH!”
Without thinking much, I bit down hard on the skin that was rubbing my face. The boy screamed and jumped off me, suddenly forgetting the doll's existence. I got up from the floor, and hit him in the face with the doll, causing him to end up falling. Holding the doll tightly and running to my throne—the couch—, I smile victoriously.
“HAHA! I WON! YOU LOST! I'm better! You're just a baby!” I shook my body and jumped on top of the couch, doing my victory dance. A little round and several faces sticking my tongue out at him for my winning performance.
“I WILL SHOW YOU WHO'S THE BABY!” He was almost growling with rage and blasted towards me, but I dodged it and kicked his face while dancing.
Okay, this dance is perfect; I even win more times when I do it!
“The little baby is stressed, is he? Ownnn, poor little baby!” While pouting, I put my hands under my chin and cutely blinked my eyes.
However, this time the little one seemed to have reached the peak of anger, as his usual pale face was red as a pepper.
With an animalistic scream, he lunged at me and knocked us both onto the couch before I could realize what was happening. The doll let go of my hand, but he didn’t care about the doll anymore, much less me. The focus now was to protect myself from the punches while I kicked and screamed below him.
We yelled and threw blows at each other, I pulled his hair to the side and his body fell off the couch; but as it was firmly attached to me, I fell above him with a loud thud. We rolled on the floor until we hit the wall, where I stopped on top of him, and when I raised my fist to hit his face, something pulled me back. In the adrenaline rush, I tried to go back to him, but a sharp slap hit my forehead, and only then I realized that there was someone else in the room.
“ВЫ ОБА! ПРЕКРАТИТЕ ЭТО!” ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ, sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ!
Oh, no. It’s Wanda.
She sent us death glares with those green eyes of hers, and crossed her arms. When she crosses her arms, it means she was angry. And if she forgot that she was supposed to say everything in English, it meant she was really angry.
That was bad.
I looked back at Pietro with a frown, but we realized that it was not the time to continue a fight. Slowly, we sat down politely on the floor, looking down as if guilty.
“Are you crazy?!” Her tone of voice made me recoil a little in my place. “Did you realize the mess this place is?! Do you want mama to kill us?!”
She's not my mama, so it’s not my problem…
“As if your mama wouldn't kill you either!” The ironic answer came quickly, and I closed my eyes to make me disappear.
Did I say it out loud?! Maybe I was definitely crazy. Crazy in the head, totally crazy. I lower my head even more in fear. I was starting to think she was going to kill me first...
“You both will clean it now! And fast, because mama and papa are almost arriving!”
“All right…” Pietro and I looked at each other and got up, brushing dirt from our knees and clothes.
Pietro went to catch the toys and I caught the pillows, throwing them casually on the couch. That was when Wanda made a scolding sound and raised an eyebrow at me. Ugh. Rolling my eyes and stomping, I arranged the pillows on the couch and even fluffed them with my hands.
“Like this, ma’am? Is it to your liking?” I say with narrowed eyes and a smirk.
“Yeah, I think that's enough.” And to make me happier, the girl sat on the sofa, making a mess of everything again. My fists closed involuntarily, wanting to put an end to a certain someone's petulant attitudes. “Now, get out of the way.” She smiled and got the remote.
I took a deep breath and my face contorted when I saw her turning on the TV to a sitcom show. I can't believe it. The laughs in the show even seemed to match the situation.
From behind, Pietro realized what was happening and had the same reaction—his mouth and eyes agape. “THAT'S NOT FAIR, WANDA!” Furiously, he put himself in front of the TV, opening his arms widely to prevent Wanda from watching. “Do we need to clean all this mess while you're sitting and relaxing?! That's totally not fair!”
“Of course it's fair, you both made this mess and now you're both cleaning it. Excuse me.” She pushes Pietro aside with her leg, making him stumble on his own feet.
The grumpy boy turned to me and raised his eyebrows, asking me to intervene too. If yelling and complaining didn’t help, we must address her weak point.
“But, Wan, you should help us!” I put on a pleading face and calm tone of voice. “Wanna know why?”
“No. Shut up and let me watch.”
“I may be older,” I continue, ignoring her coldness, “but you're in control because you're responsible! What would our mamas think of you if they left you here, and you were not able to keep it under control? They'll think you're irresponsible like us! And time is running out, do you think Pietro will work efficiently if he is not in a good mood? They will arrive and the apartment will be a mess!”
To make my point more believable, Pietro crossed his arms and lowered his head with a big pout. All pretend. But it's perfect.
Wanda looked at us for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought about the possibilities. I sighed and shook my head to hide a smug smile. If she begins to think, it's already won. I knew how much she cared about her image, so the next talk was predictable.
“Fine, I'll help you!” She grumbled and got up from her seat, putting the pillows in the right place again. “I'll take a damp cloth to clean the paint and other dust, Pietro gets the toys and Marene sweeps the dirt.”
I looked at my partner in crime and we smiled sneakily, hitting a high-five as I went to get the broom.
Quite impressive, if I may say, my dearest Marene. Although I was not the most responsible, I definitely was the smartest!
But when I came back, despite Wanda working as she promised, Pietro wasn't getting the toys; he was playing with a car. Lazy slug.
A mischievous smile spread on my face in the surge of a new idea, and I started to sweep his toys. If he didn’t want to put it away, I would put everything in the trash. The only thing we couldn’t do was to leave this place messed up, right?
“Hey! What the heck do you think you're doing?! Put it back!”
“Stop swearing. Mama will be mad if she finds out you're learning this kind of thing.”
He rolled his eyes at Wanda's dumb statement. “She will only know if you open this big mouth of yours! And it's not my fault, Mare is sweeping my toys! Stop it!”
He threw a ball in my direction that I easily dodged. It almost hit the TV, instead…
“Um,” I pretended to think about his request, but quickly continued to sweep his stuff again. “No, I'm sorry. My safety is more important than your toys. It's your fault you didn't put it away before.”
“Mare, put it back! Stop sweeping my things!” He got in the way, but I just continued sweeping, making a point of passing the dirty broom over his feet.
“I swept your feet—you're not marrying anymore!” I laughed and changed the way I was sweeping to keep working without Pietro's interrupting.
“No! Come back! Sweep it again! I can't not marry!” He held the broom desperately, trying to make the "curse" unmade. I, however, continued ignoring his efforts, putting ridiculous effort into sweeping now that he was holding the broom.
“I need to put the trash in the trash! Do you want to go together?” I pulled the broom from his hand, now sweeping his hair.
“For God's sake, stop fighting…” Wanda mumbled, cleaning the shelves while watching the TV. She was so concentrated on it that I didn’t understand how she managed to notice us fighting.
“Shut up, Wanda!” Pietro yelled at her and grasped my broom again. “Stop sweeping my toys!”
“You're a weirdo, at one time you're telling me to stop, and at the other you’re telling me to continue!” I said in a mocking voice and shook the broom. “I have work to do, and, the opposite of you, I'm going to do it!” I tried to pull the broom, but this time, he was holding it with all his strength. “Drop it, Pietro, I need to finish it!”
“No! You're not going to sweep my things to the trash!”
I was trying to pull it out from his hands, but we were equally strong, and none of us wanted to leave it. The poor broom was even shaking in our hands. Déjà vu so early like that? “Pietro…” I said, grinding my teeth to keep the strength. “Drop… it!”
He growled in answer and kept pulling it, both our bodies getting red and sweaty, but so… he smiled.
I realized my mistake too late.
“AS YOU WISH!” He grinned and let go of the broom, sending it flying straight at my forehead.
I hit something behind me and a loud sound could be heard. Sparkling things flew everywhere, some of them tinkling my skin.
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy, my head was spinning… aching? I’m not sure, everything was blurred… I could feel my body being lifted, but I couldn’t decipher the voices nor understand what it was talking about. Geez, it hurts…
After what seemed an eternity, I managed to open my eyes and saw the twins at my side, with tears rolling down their cheeks. Why were they crying?
“Mare, are you fine?!” Wanda asked and her voice echoed in my mind.
I felt a sharp pain in my head and slowly put my hand there. Wet?… I was almost sure we didn't get water to the living room, despite all the mess we made. I brought my hand next to my eyes, seeing the red, slimy liquid. What in the world was it?... Strawberry juice? Slime? Since when did our parents give us this?
“Oh my...” Pietro widened his eyes, and covered his mouth with his hands as he sobbed. “Mare… I'm sorry… I didn't—I didn’t want to hurt you and—I thought we—” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry!”
I watched him crying, and I frowned my eyebrows lightly. What was he talking about? Why was he crying?
Wanda, who was paralyzed since she saw my red hands, seemed to wake up. She scanned my body with her eyes and breathed unsteadily. I followed her gaze, wondering what caused her to be like that.
Well, she probably was really worried about things being out of their place, as the only possible "wrong" thing in my body were those little dots. I giggled slightly, realizing I look like a ladybug. That was cool.
“I-I'll be getting bandages…” Wanda got up stumbling, her legs faltering like drunk men, and rushed out.
But why did we need bandages? To heal me from the ladybug's disease? I knew she was naive but I didn't think she was that much. Chickenpox disease doesn't appear like that, it just happens if you get in contact with another person with chickenpox disease. It was common knowledge.
Only when she came back, holding tweezers and a roll of bandages, something popped out in my mind. I stared at the sparkling things around the ground, analyzing that they looked a lot like broken glass. I looked around carefully, and the place where the TV should be was totally empty. Glass of its screen was now in the ground and in my skin. But… There's something more. The red thing in my body…
I looked at the probably-not-disease-nor-juice liquid in my hand and arms, my eyes widening as I slowly noticed what it truly was.
“I… I am bleeding?” I gazed at Wanda and at Pietro, wanting someone to tell me wrong, but they both weren’t in a good state to talk. While Wanda held the tweezers with shaking hands, Pietro kept sobbing and mumbling “I’m sorry”.
God, what should I do? Everyone is panicking…
Wanda was looking at my arms, at the tweezers, at my hands, at my head, at the bandages… She finally held the bandages, but all the times she got closer to me, she retracted at the same moment, looking again at the tweezers and at the blood. She was breathless and trembling, not working well under pressure, as always. Probably her mind was too confused to decide if she should take care of the splattered glasses in my body, or of the bleeding at the back of my head.
“Wanda,” I waited for her to look at me. Her teary eyes met mine and my heart ached at seeing her like this. “The biggest wound first,” I repeated the same instruction my mom had said when teaching me first aid. The girl couldn’t get a grip of her, so I held her hand, trying to assure her. “I’ll be fine. The glass isn't hurting, so you can work in my head first. Clean and bandage it. Easy peasy, right?”
By her face, she didn't think it was “easy peasy”, but having some instructions probably cleared her mind about what to do, as she walked back at me and began to clean my wound with her unsteady hands. Some tears of pain left my eyes—I whined as well—, but I tried my best not to make any loud sounds, so as not to scare her more than she already was.
When she finished cleaning, the sound of the door lock was heard in the deepest silence of tension.
We glanced at each other, feeling it mutually:
“Shit.”
If even Wanda was cursing, the situation was clearly bad. Terrible. The apartment was a mess, we broke the TV, Pietro was crying uncontrollably, I was bleeding… Not very good. Nothing good.
Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff stepped inside the TV room and we stopped moving, trying to make them think we were sculptures. This strategy never worked, but we kept frozen. After all, they seemed to be trying it too: they were as still as we were.
“My goodness…” Mrs. Maximoff whispered. Her head turned around, getting all the details in the scene. When she landed her gaze on me, her eyes widened, and she went on tiptoe to reach me. “My holy goodness…”
Her hands hovered around me, unsure of how she should touch me since I had glass all over my skin. In the end, she put her hands under my armpits, checking if the movement was hurting me, but as I didn't complain, she took me off the ground and carried me out of the minefield.
Sitting me on the kitchen counter, she looked at me with a worried frown on her face. I couldn’t say anything to calm her down, because I knew the situation would probably only get worse.
“Wanda, what happened here?!” Mr. Maximoff shouted in the TV room, and while auntie turned my face to see my back, I watched the situation unfold.
I looked at Wanda, and it was like I could hear her heartbeats from there; her breathing uneven and her lips parting incoherently. Pietro didn’t stop crying for a minute, holding tightly to his sister's arm. Argh, his frightened face was betraying the culprit of the situation! Play it off, Pietro!
“Uh… P-Pietro…” Wanda stuttered, and stilled when she felt Pietro tensing up at her side. She swallowed dryly. “We. We were playing and… and a toy… um—the wood car! Yeah, the wood car, it… it hit the TV.”
“Really?” Mrs. Maximoff raised her eyebrow, which meant, NO, she already knew it was a lie?! She must have a radar in her head, because she always knows! “And can you explain to me how Marene got this wound? Was he playing with Pietro again? And what about the broken glass? Were they making glitter?” she interrogated while putting the bandage on my head, tightening a little too much for my liking, but I was not complaining even though it hurt.
I knew she wasn’t mad at me, she was mad at the whole situation; maybe angrier at Pietro. As I was the visitor, I was always treated with privilege and it was never my fault, but that, summed up with Wanda’s expression, only made me feel worse.
“Marene… and Pietro? T-They were…” Her eyes were flickering while she looked between me, Pietro, and her mama. My, did she really have to ask Wanda? She was too honest to know how to make excuses!
Before I could think of what I should say to help her, my mom appeared hurried in the door, so hurried she didn't even take the medical mask off her face.
“Kids?! I think I heard something, all's okay here?!”
Gradually, recognition showed on her face. She saw the mess and looked right at me, her face enraged and worried.
“Marene Tsuki!”
Oh God. I'm dead.
She raged at me, excusing Mrs. Maximoff so she could observe me. “I left you with the twins for twenty minutes and you do that in the apartment?!” She held my hands to check my arms, and I whimpered with the pain it caused. “Where is it aching more?”
“Not sure… it's all burning, mom.” I sniffed and faced down, letting a tear slip from my eye. “It's hurting so much, mom, my head and my skin, it's all hurting!”
Actually, it wasn’t hurting that much. Maybe I was anesthetized by the adrenaline from the fight I had with Pietro, but I could only feel some throbbing in my head; nothing more. But she needed to think I was under pain of death, so she would be worried instead of angry.
“Dear God, Mare, how many times will I have to say it?” She began to take off the glass from my arms, and… and… what was that whistl—
A choked gasp left my throat as darkness engulfed everything.
The ringing in my ear continued. My whole body ached, and everything was heavy, even the air. I couldn’t stop coughing, no matter how much my lungs hurt. My eyelashes fluttered, but it was impossible to keep them open; it was itching a lot.
My limbs were flat under a weight, making my muscles crumble in pain. My pores were burning, burning, burning, keeping up with the alarming speed of my heart.
What… what was that?…
I managed to twitch my head, but merely to extract a groan from me, as something scratched over my wounds. I breathed heavily and noticed my vision was blurred with tears and dirt.
Just after a long, long time, the dust calmed down, and my chest sank with the view.
Without exception, everything was destroyed.
Wreckage covered what was left, hiding the city behind blocks, water, shards, blood, bodies…
No… no, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It couldn’t.
I couldn’t find mama anywhere.
She promised she would tell me a story tonight. She would sing to me our favorite song. She… She would sleep with me and… and I didn't hug her. Oh my God, I couldn’t even say goodnight, or… goodbye.
Tears flowed through my cheeks like rivers, loud sobs sounding from my mouth, my lungs hurting each time I tried to breathe.
How could it be? How could it end like this? Mama wasn’t ready! It wasn’t the right time! How could they do that to her?!
“Is som…ne here?”
My body trembled when I heard the voice. I tried to answer, but a lump in my throat blocked me from doing so.
“Marene? Is… you?” Pietro's voice sounded weak and far, muffled by the ringing in my head, and it became harder to understand when he cried again.
“Here…” I said, but it seemed mute, a murmur too low for my hearing.
“Thank God. I…was just me…anda.” He was silent for a while, and I started to worry that I was deaf before he whispered. “I don't…ma…pa.”
It only helped to confirm my fears.
Only the three of us survived? Wanda was alive, wasn’t she? Was she there too? I needed to know if she was okay.
Before I tried to abuse my poor broken throat, I heard low laughs. Like, TV's laughs. My ears weren’t working as they should, but I was sure of what I heard, and then of what I saw:
The TV was like new, and Wanda was watching it like nothing hadn't happened.
“Wanda?” my throat vibrated, giving me the only solid proof I was voicing something. However, she didn’t react to me.
Was I really talking? Maybe I'd need to try it again. Louder. Sacrificing my throat to get her attention.
“Wanda…” I tried, feeling like several needles were piercing my insides. “Are you… okay?”
When I was thinking she wouldn't listen to me again, she shushed me, not taking her eyes off the screen. Instead, she pointed at something on the ground, and my body blanched, turning cold as ice.
A bomb.
A shell.
A Stark's one.
Dangerous.
“Wanda!…” I insisted, but she seemed to be too entertained with the Sitcom and just ignored me.
I tried Pietro, but the moment he looked at that thing, his eyes rolled up and his head fell limp on a wooden board.
God.
I was with them, but… it felt like I was alone. Completely alone.
I have nobody here.
Mama was gone. They were gone. So who was going to protect me? Who was going to protect us?
Ah…
I had to be strong. I'll have to take care of them now. I needed to do it. We were alone, we needed someone, and this someone would be me. I was older. I should.
The next two days were filled with pain and crying, recurring fainting and nausea. But not for a single moment did I wish it to end there. I needed to live. We needed to live. And no matter what I had to do for it, we would live.
...
I never wanted it to end there, but, let's spill the truth:
It would be a lot easier if it had.