PURE AND TAINTED ( wanda maximoff )

seven → what am i becoming?

PURE AND TAINTED
CHAPTER SEVEN
( what am i becoming? )

WHEN SHE HAD REALIZED what she had done, when she finally came to her senses and taken back control of her own body, Aline curled in on herself and started to cry. Everything within her just felt awful; she could feel all that blood covering her bare skin, little droplets falling down her body. She could taste the blood in her mouth and nearly screamed because, well, she liked it. The tribrid hadn't even bothered to try to cover herself, instead remaining on the floor of the hallway and crying her eyes out.

Their screams and begging echoed in her mind, but the wolf didn't listen. Instead it just clawed and bit and killed as much as it pleased because it didn't want to stop or listen to anyone. Blood being spilt flashed in her mind again and again in a never-ending cycle, and she knows that her wolf enjoyed it. She knew her wolf had smiled and savored the fear and panic, loving the rush of the kill. But why? It had never been this bad but the years of heartache and pain had seemed to permanently damage her heart.

Distantly, she was aware that someone had called her name but she didn't bother to lift her head. Aline just sat there, back pressed against the metallic wall of the hallway with her knees pressed to her chest.

It was Natasha who had run to find her, the wound on her head still pulsing from her past fight but nothing major that couldn't be fixed. When she rounded the corner, she froze. She saw Aline crying silently, her clothes gone and replaced with a clash of crimson across her pale skin. Blood streaked the walls and floor around her, and Natasha took a cautious step towards Aline. Upon further inspection, she realized that blood was dripping from Aline's mouth and down her chin; she didn't look to be injured. In fact, she appeared to have been the one to deal the damage. The three bodies surrounded her had several claw marks and bite wounds across it.

Before she had fallen through the floor and run from Bruce's alter ego, she thought she had seen Aline turn into... something, but she assumed it was a trick of the mind or something. But now she knows that it wasn't a trick; Aline had turned into a wolf, covered head to toe in fur and a mouth set in a vicious snarl.

The red haired woman took a careful step towards Aline, as if she was walking on eggshells. As much as she wanted, she couldn't avoid stepping into the pools of blood. "Aline," Natasha said as gently as possible but the brunette did not look her way. "Hey, kid, look at me." She caught sight of some words tattooed across her ribs, written gently in a woman's handwriting. She kneeled in front of Aline, fully shielding her vision from the three bodies before her. Shrugging off her jacket, Natasha maneuvered it over Aline's shoulders to cover herself. "It's gonna be okay, kid, just keep looking at me."

"I killed them." Aline's voice was trembling, and it was like she was looking straight through Natasha. "I killed them all... and I liked it." She looked up at the assassin with scared eyes.

When Madelaine had been killed all those years ago, she had spilt so much blood all in the name of revenge. She'd done it for so long, that she had started to take a liking to it. The Red Witches had just been the first of many. But when the dust had finally cleared and Aline had come to terms with what she had done, she realized that she is exactly what everyone had ever called her 一 a monster. It's why she hasn't shifted since then, for fear of that thing coming back and unleashing hell. Fifty years without turning does something to you, she quickly realized.

"Oh, God, what am I becoming?" Aline cried, sobbing into her arms. She buried her face deeper into herself. "Not again, please, God, not again."

Again. Natasha pursed her lips, wondering what Aline had meant by saying Not again. What had happened to her? She hadn't read much of Aline's files (only because there wasn't much to go off of), but she assumed that it had something to do with an incident that happened nearly fifty years ago, a collection of murders. God, what could she say? She had no idea what Aline was saying but by the looks of things, this had happened once before. "Hey, look at me," Natasha said in a kind yet firm tone, sounding surprisingly maternal. "We are going to get you out of here and cleaned up. Then we're going to kick this god's ass and send him back to where he belongs."

Without even thinking, Aline nodded and allowed Natasha to pull her up. Her body ached from shifting so quickly and violently, and when she took her first step, she swore she felt her bones scraping against one another. Every step Aline took, she found more comfort in Natasha's touch, allowing the ex-assassin to lead her down the hall.

___

Thankfully, Natasha had not mentioned what she found in the hallway to anyone else. In fact, she was just planning to say the agents' deaths were Loki's fault (technically it was, he was part of the reason Aline had shifted). No one had asked what happened to Aline, knowing that just like them, she had been fighting her own battles.

When Natasha had cleaned her up, setting her in a bathtub and helped scrubbed her clean, Aline instantly felt like a child again. There was something oddly familiar about how the woman took care of her, reminding her much of her own mother. She was thankful that it hadn't been Steve or Tony who found her; she wasn't sure what she would do if they found her like that. Aline knew very clearly that the older woman had had her share of killing, so she was thankful that she didn't ask too many questions. Though, she was vaguely aware that both Thor and Bruce were gone. She didn't know how and she didn't know where they were, but she didn't particularly care. Aline also knew that Coulson, an agent that she had shared a few conversations with, had been killed by Loki's own blade. The only thing left of him was a set of Captain America trading cards, bloodsoaked and tossed across the table.

Somehow, Natasha had managed to recover Aline's ripped clothes, along with the green gem necklace and the ring Madelaine had given her. The necklace had been something her and her cousin Rome had shared, gotten when they were young to help with their magic. God, what would Madelaine do if she saw Aline like this? What would that beautiful, simple girl do if she saw her monster of a soulmate now? Would she scream and cry, or would she just calmly sit there and allow Aline to cry into her arms? She didn't know the answer to that...

Honestly, she couldn't remember much of Madelaine anymore. Her soulmate's scent had started to fade away months after her death, and as the years went by, Aline could no longer remember how Madelaine's eyes would spark with joy or how her nose crinkled when she smiled. Sometimes, on the worst days, she couldn't even remember what Madelaine looked like. That was her soulmate... at least, Madelaine was supposed to be her soulmate. Drifting her hand across her ribs, Aline traced her finger across the black fading words. It pained her to know that those words were just fading away. Why? It shouldn't matter if the soulmate died, the words shouldn't disappear. The markings were supposed to be permanent and never changing, so why was this happening to her?

Maybe... maybe her time with Madelaine was a mistake. She hoped her ancient gods would smite her now for even thinking that, but if Madelaine wasn't her soulmate (anymore, if it at all), then who was?