(why are there rooms, and what's keeping them from just leaving? what caused this, in the first place? the sharp edges of the race car sting against the soft skin of the palm of her hand.
as he starts walking, she lets go of his arm, but walks close by. it's the closet door of this room, and wanda reaches out for the knob, turning it, and pushing the door open.
it's dark at first, and she moves to stand behind him. because, even if it's dark, she can already tell what it is; faint lights illuminate the falling snow, the dust that settles. are they really forced to step into the bombed apartment where she lost her parents? debris atop a couch cover the bodies of her parents, and wanda's not ready to face this.
(darkness draws closer, at every open scar, at every ounce of desperate loneliness, hurt and pain.) )
...a different door...
( she says with a shaky, quiet voice.
but there is no other door, and there's one across the other room. )
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as he starts walking, she lets go of his arm, but walks close by. it's the closet door of this room, and wanda reaches out for the knob, turning it, and pushing the door open.
it's dark at first, and she moves to stand behind him. because, even if it's dark, she can already tell what it is; faint lights illuminate the falling snow, the dust that settles. are they really forced to step into the bombed apartment where she lost her parents? debris atop a couch cover the bodies of her parents, and wanda's not ready to face this.
(darkness draws closer, at every open scar, at every ounce of desperate loneliness, hurt and pain.) )
...a different door...
( she says with a shaky, quiet voice.
but there is no other door, and there's one across the other room. )