White
White.
The color white was the only thing Wanda had seen for the past six months.
It's not like she was counting the days since she entered the mental hospital. The only reason she knew that six months had passed was the monthly registration done by the hospital staff every month.
They review each patient to check the improvement that has happened over the month.
It's not like she cared about it, because all these fools did was allow her to leave for some time at the end of every month under strict surveillance.
Yesterday was the sixth time they did this.
Honestly, Wanda didn't care much about many things, including what she had done to end up in this place.
But it was unfortunate that some people she thought were friends never asked about her or visited her.
At first, she thought that maybe visiting her had been banned, but Spider-Man visiting her shortly after she was placed in this hospital showed that anyone could visit her.
She was truly disappointed in those she called companions or her own kind… well, she had tried to kill some of them, and in a way, she seemed like she wanted to wipe her kind off the face of the earth.
Six months made her think about many things, including how she was alone, and even her stupid brother and arrogant father hadn't thought of visiting her… maybe trying to smuggle her out.
Among these things was Spider-Man.
Maybe she saw herself as cruel to him, but for her, this was the truth.
The suffering she had lived and was still living was harsher than anything that could happen in his life.
For her, it was foolish of him to try to compare his pain with hers, and did even the superhero clown suffer in his life?
From what she knew about him, no one who jumps across rooftops and cracks jokes could possibly suffer from anything. Life seemed like
nothing to him, and she hated that
She looked back at the white color.
It wasn't the color of things placed by the doctors to give her some entertainment in her solitude.
No, she had been classified as dangerous, and they had given up hope of curing her.
It was the damn color of the ceiling that she had begun to hate with all her being. If it hadn't been for the things she lived through and survived, she might have gone mad from the isolation during these six months… maybe thanks to some of the older nurses
Suddenly, the door to her room opened, making her turn her head towards it.
Four guards entered the room with a doctor and two nurses and asked her to stand, which she did.
The two nurses approached her and put on the damn shirt and tied her wristband tightly, making her look at the nurse with annoyance, who stepped back a little in fear.
One of the guards pushed Wanda slightly. "Move."
She was confused. It was the end of the month yesterday, the only time of the month she was allowed to leave.
Suddenly, a small thought popped into her mind. 'Are they going to execute me?'
She had heard from some guards a few months ago that they might execute her during her monthly outings, which made Wanda walk like someone who had lost all hope in life, heading towards her end.
Suddenly, the doctor's voice beside her brought her back to reality when he saw her expression. "Don't worry, I know what you're thinking, but you're safe.
She looked at him confused. "About the execution?"
She scowled, but still kept walking and looked at the doctor. "I heard."
Before she could finish her sentence, the doctor cut her off. "I know what you heard, but you're just going to your first medical session, so ease up a bit. Your doctor is somewhat new to his work."
Wanda frowned, but this time she was looking ahead as they all stopped to take the elevator, ascended to their floor, and passed two rooms before stopping in front of one of the rooms.
Inside the Room
For six months, the road hadn't been easy.
Peter had been living in a daily race with no rest. Between attending lectures, studying psychiatry, immersing himself in complex references, and his nightly jumps across the rooftops, responding to any cries for help in the city, he spent his nights as a masked hero, chasing criminals, dealing with disasters, then returning at the first light of dawn to wash the blood off his hands and wear his student shirt... if 25 years is still considered young in this day and age.
He wasn't just trying to become a psychiatrist, he was trying to be the best. Every step was driven by one desire: to help her. To reach her in a way that wouldn't make her turn away from him.
His first meeting with her, in his famous red suit, wasn't enough to make her trust him. It was more like a silent warning. He knew Wanda Maximoff didn't trust heroes after what had happened.
Especially those who appear and disappear in the shadows. So, he chose to approach her as a human... not as a hero.
During those months, he wasn't alone in his pursuit. Dr. Stephen Strange, who knew another side of Peter that few people did, had given him a strong recommendation for the very hospital where Wanda was under observation.
The recommendation was based on Peter's previous academic background before becoming "Spider-Man." With a calculated move, Strange pulled some strings behind the curtain, owing him a favor he had never forgotten.
Thanks to this recommendation, Peter not only got the chance to work at the institution but also received special permission to include Wanda Maximoff among his potential patients.
This was an unusual exception, but Strange had managed to make it seem like part of an advanced rehabilitation plan... and they believed it.
It wasn't all just papers and connections.
Peter passed the exams, interviews, and psychological tests with true perseverance. He didn't rely on anyone to succeed.
He proved that he deserved his place, despite his young age, despite his unknown past to most people around him.
In their eyes, he was just a talented young doctor... and that was all he needed.
Now, after all these months, he sat in the chair opposite the leather couch in the designated psychiatric therapy room at the hospital. The room was neat and calm.
But he wasn't calm at all; his heart was pounding at an unprecedented speed.
A soft knock at the door... followed by a slow opening.
Four guards, two nurses, and a doctor entered, accompanied by a woman with dark brown hair, her eyes wandering around the room unfocused.
She wore the hospital gown that restricted her movement, but even amidst this forced calmness, she appeared imposing... broken and imposing.
She raised her eyes to him.
This time, there was no mask.
No red suit or spider web.
It was just a young man in a simple shirt, holding a notebook and pen.
She looked at him without any expression since she had never seen this person before.
But she didn't speak.
As for Peter, he smiled softly and said in a quiet voice, "Hello, Wanda. My name is Dr. Peter Parker... and I will be with you in these sessions."
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END OF CHAPTER
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