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4461Fic: "Shattered Glass And Dried Blood" R (1/1) [Rogue, (W/R)]

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  • Nadja Lee
    Aug 14, 2002
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      Shattered Glass And Dried Blood

      By Nadja Lee 27/07/02

      English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

      Disclaimer: "X-men" and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make no money of it. Also the movie ”Black Hawk Down” doesn’t belong to me but the moviemakers, writers, film company and others.

      Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author. Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of the author.

      Timeline: Set in the movie universe. After the movie.

      Universe: Set in the movie universe.

      Romance: Rogue/Logan

      Summary: Rogue is still depressed after Logan left but is now forced to try and pick up the pieces.

      Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

      Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...

      Rating: R

      Warning: May contain disturbing elements.

      Sequel/series: Sequel/comparison to "Glass And Blood"

      Author’s notes: There’s no excuse for this piece but that I was depressed again *shrug*

      Thanks so much to J. Marie T. for the Beta!

      * * *

      There’s something almost hypnotic about glass. It’s so light yet deadly, it’s there yet it isn’t, it’s a wall between inside and out yet it’s transparent.

      Knifes are fascinating in a different way; they’re more solid, hard and impersonal. When I handle a knife I always have to let it run over my open palm to see if it’s sharp enough to draw blood but it’s not the same as with glass…..I like glass better.

      When I sit alone with a broken piece of glass in my hand and let it cut, it’s like there’s nothing else in the world, and at that moment I’m almost at peace. It’s a bit like music; I need music to everything I do. I can’t imagine living without music. I can get lost in the sound, sing to the lyrics….for a few minutes get totally lost in nothing as my mind becomes a blank. What kind of music people listen to says so much about a person and if people would listen, it could tell a whole life story. When I’m happy I hear happy and fast music, when I’m sad I hear slow and depressing songs….I always cut to such songs. Lately the score to the movie "Black Hawk Down" has me in tears every time and whenever I hear it I search for a piece of glass….I almost panic if I can’t get a hold of one at the moment sensations and images run through me.

      When I cut the first time it was something I had to do, I couldn’t stop. I don’t cut to kill, few people do. I cut to escape, to say something…because everything is spinning around, everything is so confusing and painful and I feel so lost and alone….I just have to do it. It's different things that trigger it; a hard day, harsh words.... Feelings and thoughts...memories. The good memories hurt more than the bad ones do.

      I didn’t stop to think about what would happen the day after. I only cut inside my palms; hidden yet visible if anyone cares enough to look closely. I didn’t consider that cuts inside your hands stings every time you wash your hands, every time you wash plates, every time you put your hand down on something wet or dirty. I don’t like that. It’s not the pain I seek…not when the moment has passed. Afterwards I just want to forget about it, at least for a while. When I first cut I thought the scars would become visible, but I see now as the old ones have healed that they fade and blend into the natural lines inside my palms. Something in me is happy about it yet something in me wanted clear scars…obvious ones. I’m as confused on this matter as everything else. I feel embarrassed about cutting yet proud at the same time, I want people to see it yet I don’t, I want people to know yet I don’t….I’m not sure what I want.

      Sometimes I just feel so tired, my head hurts, my vision is blurred and my mind is spinning out of control. I’m not sure what to make of anything and in the end I do nothing. It is like anger without the power, without the energy.

      I feel like the shattered and broken piece of glass I hold in my hand; broken, lost, alone, confused, strained….no longer complete or whole.

      I know I shouldn’t do it, I know it’s wrong….but I need to. I keep the broken piece of glass…at least for now. Maybe some day in the future I will be able to put it away but not yet, not now. Right now I need it to keep me sane.

      The End