Disclaimers etc. in Part 1.
< > indicates thoughts
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation
// // indicates memories
The Long Hard Road Out of Hell
The first few weeks were a nightmare. Calhoun was strong in her mind --
stronger than she'd expected a human to be. He hated her -- hated all of
them -- and it disturbed her to no end when his vitriol would suddenly spill
from her mouth.
The worst was how she began to look at her roommate and friends.
She stalked Jubilee for a week. She waited for her to come home after
school. She watched her change in the locker room before and after their
self-defense classes. She had obscure fantasies about making her pay. For
what, Rogue wasn't sure. After the first few times, the fantasies became
disturbingly graphic and violent. She saw her hands pressing Jubes to the
bed, her knee forcing the other girl's legs apart and then she had to run
into the bathroom and vomit.
Faintly, as if from far, far away, she could hear Logan telling her to
fight, to be strong. Even Erik kicked in and ordered her to survive, the way
he had survived -- by any means necessary. She rested her head on the cool
tile of the bathroom floor and let the voices wash over her.
But Calhoun overrode the others. He told her to give in, stop fighting, and
just do it. Do what he wanted her to do, what she wanted to do anyway.
She ripped off her gloves and looked at the scars healing on her wrists.
Taking a razor from the medicine chest, she gently, almost lovingly, traced
the angry red lines with the sharp blade, watching as beads of blood welled
Jubilee found her huddled on their bathroom floor. Her shrieks would have
woken the dead. They roused Rogue from her warm somnolence, and Rogue hated
her best friend at that moment. Calhoun hated her for taking away his
revenge, and Rogue hated her for taking away her peace.
Rogue suddenly found herself with no time to herself. Someone was constantly
with her, watching her. Calhoun faded. He was cunning. He could bide his
The trial, what there was of it, was a farce. Calhoun had spent a month in a
coma and his lawyer seemed to think that was a mitigating circumstance that
entitled him to get off easy.
The prosecutor was nervous about angering Xavier, one of the county's
leading citizens, on the one hand, and upsetting the anti-mutant community
on the other.
Calhoun got ten to fifteen after the defense attorney realized that the jury
wasn't going to acquit a man who forced himself on the delicate-looking girl
who sat in the courtroom everyday, staring at him with haunted eyes.
Everyone thought she was so brave to confront her rapist in court. The
Professor seemed to think it would do her good.
It just made him come alive again in her head.
She dropped out of school and no one argued with her. She took up smoking
again. Between Calhoun, Logan and her own jangled nerves, the smell of
tobacco and the rush of nicotine were soothing.
She had daily counseling sessions with Jean and the Professor. The volatile
mix of personalities in her head made it hard for them to get a good read on
her state of mind, but Jean thought she was slowly improving, especially
after Calhoun was sent to Sing Sing.
Kitty came home for Spring Break and the stalking began again. The perky
brunette was very much to Calhoun's taste.
"Why are you staring at me, Rogue?"
"Am I? I'm sorry," Rogue replied, disconcerted at being caught and disgusted
at the thoughts circling in her head. "I, I have to go."
Out to the boathouse, where she could smoke in peace. That was the first
time she burned herself. She'd thought of slitting her wrists again, but it
angered Logan and made Newton happy, so she'd put the idea aside for the
But sitting there, staring at the lake, trying to shake Calhoun's nasty
thoughts about Kitty, she knew she had to hurt herself. Because hurting
herself was the only way she could hurt him. She pulled the glove off her
left arm. Every time Calhoun came up with another scenario in which she
tried to fuck Kitty, she burned herself.
There were six marks on her arm before she finished smoking the first
Erik screamed and Logan raged but David, long dormant, cheered the bastard
on. Even though she thought she was hurting him, as long as she was injured
in the bargain, he was content.
So it went, every day that Kitty was home. Rogue had covered both arms, and
was working her way up her left leg by Friday.
On Saturday night, before Kitty was to leave to go back to Chicago, Rogue
cornered her in their bedroom. Jubilee was out on a date, so they were alone
in the room when Rogue locked the door.
Kitty came out of the bathroom, not aware of Rogue's plans. She wore a
t-shirt and boxer shorts, typical sleepwear on a cool spring night. Rogue
smiled, a cold, threatening stretch of lips over teeth. She was behind Kitty
before the other girl knew what hit her.
"You look so pretty," Rogue whispered harshly, her voice not resembling her
own in the least. "Why you teasin' me like that, sugar? I'm gonna make you
pay." And she brought the razor in her hand up Kitty's throat. "Don't scream
and you might even enjoy it."
"Rogue?" Kitty said in a hushed, fearful tone.
Rogue blinked and pressed the metal deeper into Kitty's throat. Blood beaded
along a tiny patch of skin. The smell of metal and blood turned her stomach,
and she stumbled back, shrieking, "Get out! Get out! Go away! I don't want
to hurt you!"
Kitty, in her haste, phased through the locked door and barreled into Scott,
who was on his way in response to Rogue's screams.
"Rogue! Rogue!" he shouted. "Let me in!"
He was about to blast the door open when Jean put a hand on his arm. "Kitty,
could you--" she asked tentatively. The girl complied, phasing through the
door to find the friend who'd attacked her slumped on the floor, crying.
Kitty unlocked the door and backed away, letting the adults in. Jean wrapped
an arm around Rogue's shaking body, murmuring comforting sounds both aloud
and in her head.
"Scott," she whispered, and he came and lifted the girl in his arms, careful
of the small patches of exposed skin above her gloves and below her
Jean gave her a light sedative when they got downstairs, and then undressed
the younger woman carefully. She gasped in shock at the small, round burns
lining her pale flesh. After covering her carefully with a hospital gown,
she called the others into the room.
She pulled no punches. "It's worse than we thought. I don't know how long
she's been doing this, but it's bad."
"I've put a call in to Dr. Braddock. She's an excellent psychiatrist and I
hope she can help Rogue where we cannot," Xavier replied.
"How soon can she be here?" Ororo asked.
"She's in Europe, at a conference, so it may be a week or two. It may be a
good idea to keep Rogue dosed with a mild sedative, until Betsy can arrive."
"I don't like it," Scott said bluntly.
"There's not much else we can do," Jean said softly, putting a hand on her
"Can't you just flush him out of her mind, Professor?"
Xavier shook his head. "You know I won't do that, Scott. Not unless it's
absolutely necessary. It's best if she can work through this on her own."
"Jesus," he snapped, "if burning herself and attacking other students isn't
a sign that it's absolutely necessary, I don't know what is."
"Scott--" Jean said warningly. "I know you love her. We do, too. But we
can't just go in and take her memories away. You know that."
"It would not be ethical without Rogue's permission. And right now, she's in
no state to make that decision," the professor said, with the air of
resigned patience. It was an old argument.
"Bullshit," he responded, walking out.
He'd always been closer to Rogue than the rest of them. Their closeness had
grown during that horrible time two years ago, when Logan had come back.
<Logan,> Scott thought, and for once the name didn't conjure up anger and
He wondered if Logan would come back to help Rogue, if he knew what she was
going through. He wondered if Logan *could* help Rogue. Then he dismissed
the thought. That bastard had cared for no one but himself, and Scott wasn't
sure he could bear seeing him again, even for Rogue. Not after what had
He went upstairs, silently cursing the ethics of telepaths.
~I heard that!~ Jean said, and he smiled reluctantly.
Thats one more kid wholl never get to go to school / Never get to fall in
love / Never get to be cool Rockin in the Free World Neil Young
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