VENGEANCE
(CHAPTER SEVEN)

The next three days were not a lot of action, but certainly a lot of yelling. It was mostly between the twins, as I didn't really want any part of it. Wanda refused to be a part of the experiments, but Pietro wanted to. He insisted it was because we needed power in order to defeat the Avengers, but Wanda refused, claiming we didn't need power to accomplish that. We could do other things to harm them.

Me, on the other hand? I wasn't so sure. Violence wasn't my thing, but if it came down to it...I would harm the Avengers. They caused the death of my parents. Why shouldn't I return the favor of violence? It wouldn't be fair to me if we just talked things out or something. I had a lot of my own inner turmoil, I couldn't handle sitting in the same room as the stupid Avengers. I was in the middle on the whole situation, while the twins each had their own side. 

Early in the morning on the second day, one day before we had to decide if we wanted to volunteer, I was lying in bed listening to the twins argue. I could tell from their hushed tones that they were trying their hardest to remain quiet, but Pietro wasn't very good at it. His voice kept rising in volume, which caused Wanda to shush him every few minutes. I wanted to turn over in bed and tell them that I didn't care if they yelled, but that wouldn't help anything, so I remained quiet as I listened to their argument.

"Pietro, we can't go through with this! It's practically suicide!" Wanda was saying. Her tone was urgent, but hushed. "They can't just give us powers. That in no way sounds safe."

"I'd rather get powers in an unsafe way and kill the Avengers than sit here and cry like babies!" Pietro snapped. His tone was as sharp as a knife. He was clearly angry. "We've done absolutely nothing except riot. Rioting doesn't do anything. We need to make a move! Besides, this is safer than going after the Avengers without powers. Don't you want us to be safe?"

"Did you literally not hear what I just said?" I heard her sigh, and pictured what she was probably doing: standing there with one hand on her hip, the other rested on her forehead in a facepalm. I smiled at the thought. She always did that whenever Pietro was being stupid.

He let out a heavy groan, and I could tell from how his voice moved that he was walking in a circle now. "Wanda, seriously. You wanted to kill the Avengers more than me or Nas, and now you're backing out?"

"I'm not backing out!" I could tell from her tone of voice that she was angry now. We all knew she hated being called a coward, or too scared to do something. She wanted to be seen as strong. "I just want us to go about this safely, Piet. Please."

"Yeah, and me too, but I'm willing to take the risk." I now pictured how he was probably standing: no, not standing. Pietro never stood still. He was probably pacing around the room in a circle, his arms either crossed over his chest or thrown up above his head in anger. "Wouldn't you be willing to take the risk in order to avenge your family, Wanda?" 

"Well..." She paused, and things were quiet. I let out a soft sigh, and heard them startle when they heard me. I guess now they know I'm awake. Sitting up, I stretched, letting my bones pop, before turning to look at them both. And they were both in the exact positions I said they would be, her facepalming and him circling around with his arms crossed. 

"Are you guys done arguing?" I asked, sighing heavily. I always hated it when they argued. It was annoying, and loud.

Pietro pushed his dark hair--which was getting much too long for him, and hung in his face--out of his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "If Wanda is done worrying, yes, we're done." She sent him a glare, and he shrugged innocently. They seemed to share a look, one that told me they were still arguing in their heads, if that was even possible. It was moments like this that made me wish I had a twin. They had a deep connection, even if they seemed like they hated each other. They knew things about the other that no one else, not even me, could possibly know. They could have full-on conversations with each other without even opening their mouths, just going off of each other's expressions. It was interesting to watch them interact like this. Twins were honestly their own kind.

"Then let's eat breakfast."I pushed myself up onto my feet, running my fingers through my messy curls before moving to the little kitchen we had. It was small, barely big enough to hold all three of us, but we managed.

As I set about making breakfast, I caught my reflection in the pots and pans hanging above the stove. I had changed so, so much. Gone was the little girl with bright, innocent eyes and ratty, poofy hair. Well, actually, I still had the hair, poofy as ever, but my eyes had dulled in color. Rather than a bright honey brown they were reduced to a rather dull hazel. I was bonier than I used to be, the hallows in my face causing me to look almost dead, and my skin was pale and almost thin as paper. 

It was almost scary to see what I looked like. We had no mirrors in the house, as we couldn't afford any and they didn't seem necessary. But I looked almost like a ghost. I looked horribly unhealthy. I could imagine my mother's voice now, "My precious girl, we need to get some food in you! And a shower..."

My parents had always cared for my health. They were so caring and loving. Goodness, I never realized how much I'd missed them until now. I had spent ages crying over them, begging whatever god was up there to bring them back. But the hole in my heart hadn't been noticeable until now.

At least I had the twins. They did their best to treat me as family and care for me as family was. But even then, I just didn't fit in with them. I barely looked like them--the only things we had in common were the hair color and the unhealthy thinness--and the only thing we truly had in common was the deaths of our parents. We'd never sat down and had a meaningful conversation. I'd been with them for years and we've only focused on casting vengeance in all the ways we possibly could. 

I barely knew them. Not like I knew my parents.