Little Sister

Little Sister

I never understood what the big deal about rain was. I mean, what was it? Wet stuff that fell from the sky. I never understood why it had such a huge significance to some people. It never did to me.
Or maybe that’s a lie.
In fact, it is. Rain did mean something to me, just not all that happy crap it did for some people.

You know what it makes me think of? A night way back when I was eight. A night full of dripping, pouring rain that soaked through the sweatshirt I had worn, that soaked through my battered sneakers. A night of standing outside the place we were leaving my sister.

(Sometimes, when I don’t sleep I still wake to hearing what I think are her screams, her pleas for help, her pleas for us not to abandon her)

We stood there in the rain for ages, it felt like. We stood there watching them drag Wanda away, listening to her screams and remaining deaf to them. I still have that image of her locked in my head. Her hair reduced to a flat and dripping tangle, her eyes wild, her mouth twisted in begging. Her screams for us not to leave her here, in this place. Her pleas and our father’s indifference to them. When it was over he ushered me back into the car and drove off, never once looking back. He forbade me to look back as well.

I’m sorry Wanda, I truly am. I would have done anything to get you out of there, I know it couldn’t have been easy for you. I wanted to take you out of there but I couldn’t. At eight years old I needed someone to take care of me and it had to be him. To have gone against his rules, his laws . . . it wouldn’t have helped. It would have killed us both eventually.

So here I am Wanda. Here I am standing here on the porch enjoying cigarettes I stole from Lance. Tell me something sister dearest, how did you think I felt when I saw you walk through the door? Tell me. You don’t know? I’ll tell you then. I felt stunned. Stunned that you were back, stunned that you were even walking around normal people again.

Pain. Pain that you were here hating me for what he had done to you, and pain that I’d never been able to help you.

I’m sorry Wanda. Sorry for what he did to you, to both of us. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you really needed me. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there then, but I can be there for you now if you’ll let me.

I understand why you don’t want to. I understand you want to strong and self reliant, I do. Growing up the son of Magneto I’ve learned to be like that too. But still, at our centers, at our very cores, we’re still our own people. We’re still just Pietro and Wanda. We’re still just family.