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I can still feel them inside my head, Prologue

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  • dancingishi
    _ I can still feel him inside my head. _ Once again, she couldn t sleep. It always happened, the night engulfed the mansion, lights were out by ten, and she
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 30, 2005
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      _"I can still feel him inside my head."_

      Once again, she couldn't sleep. It always happened, the
      night engulfed the mansion, lights were out by ten, and she lay in
      bed staring at the ceiling, trying to think. Of course, whether it
      was Logan, John, Eric, Paul or Bobby, she was never able to sort her
      thoughts.

      The moonlight filtrated cautiously into the room, afraid to
      wake the other occupants. Rogue watched the shadows play with the
      moonlight, trying to figure out why. But the reason never came. She
      felt lonely, even with all the voices in her head she was lonely.

      Logan kept thinking to take another road trip, looking for a
      bar to spend the night. Eric always had different memories about
      Poland to share, and in any case, it only enabled for Rogue to
      believe that he was starting to develop and understand his powers
      during the stay there. Paul, her dear friend, the only one with
      happy thoughts, but mostly of the ones she wanted the most to go
      away, how beautiful her lips and eyes looked, how he'd yearned to
      kiss them, how impossible her trip to Canada seemed. John, something
      was pissing him off, no matter what, mostly a general envy for Bobby
      and everyone that he knew. Bobby, he was always confused about her,
      whether it was good or not for them to be together, he loved her but
      he yearned for her to much.

      All of this was too much to cope. Clutching her pillow
      tight, she still had the sentiments inside of her; she knew that she
      was all alone in the world. No matter how much the people around her
      tried to convince her that she belonged here, and she tried to think
      that there is a place were she is meant to belong, be it here or not
      she'd find it eventually.

      "Best day of my life…" she whispered slowly, trying to
      believe that she'd had worse or that tomorrow could be worse. But
      she never was able to really believe it. I'm for real, this mutation
      is a part of me, I walk around like a parasite, unable to reach for
      anyone since I take too much of them for myself.

      A lonely tear streamed to the side of her eye. She yearned
      for it all: closeness, a mind of her own, normal life, touch... But
      it is all impossible.

      Ororo said it to her in the first day, there was nothing
      that could hold back her curse; the school is for control… But
      there is no way of controlling it. Touch is natural to all beings; touch is an interaction between all beings. Touch… she yearned it so
      much.

      Paul died, she knew it, no one ever told her, but when his
      thoughts stopped changing she knew, the coma could only last for so
      long before it consumed him. Eric greatly wished for power, that's
      all he wanted, "There is no land of tolerance, there is no peace,
      not here nor anywhere else", he'd said that to her in New York, it
      somehow didn't feel so long ago, but it was, five years ago.

      Bobby feared her, distrusted her, believed to be vulnerable…
      These thoughts corrupted her mind, made her self-esteem drop, she
      was sulky during class, constantly ate less and less… Logan had
      promised he'd look after her, and on the contrary she watched over
      his dog tags, touching them at all times dangling on her
      neck. "There's not many people that'll understand what your going
      through," he said that to her when she was running again, she stayed
      behind, but then again, probably not even him has understood what
      she is going through, he is even more crazy than her, and troubled.
      And John, dear John, he everyday talked about him wanting to be
      close to her, which only depressed her more, he was not here
      anymore, and she was not with Bobby now, they broke up barely a week
      after he left. If he were her she still couldn't touch him, but in a
      way, they both were similar. His family had countered him when his
      mutation surfaced, he burned down their house. Many wounds, he
      didn't wait for them to heal before leaving.

      They all controlled her emotions, and pulled her in opposite
      directions; she wasn't who she used to be. She's no longer Marie.
      She became Rogue, the person that lures everyone, entrapping them
      inside her head. Keeps them in her head. It was crowded, the amount
      if "I" in her mind was overwhelming, during the day when she looked
      at someone each one had a different reaction, eventually she stopped
      looking at people. Whenever Kitty, Xavier or Scott cornered her to
      talk, it wasn't her speaking. The word 'Bub' came out of her mouth,
      but it didn't feel right, or the Dude from John.

      The pillow in her arms, still clutched on top of her chest,
      made her take the pain from her mind to her hands, which were
      starting to lose the capacity of circulation due to the strength
      that she unforced between them, the pillow became unmovable. She
      felt alone. No matter what, she'd always be alone. Because if she
      ever got close to anyone else, the process would repeat, she'd lure
      them and after the first touch they'd fade away. Paul died, John
      left within hours, Eric was in prison and after in a secret place,
      Bobby finished their relationship and rarely talked to her, Logan
      kept trying to find himself, which included long absences.

      She herself was becoming more and more introverted, autistic
      at some point, people around her she couldn't know what they
      thought, not only because they didn't dare to mention it and because
      she wouldn't dare touch them to find out, It would just increase the
      crowd in her head.

      Rogue laid in the heart of darkness, with a clutched pillow
      on her chest and thoughts that were not hers taking over, the
      loneliness was becoming ritual and tradition. There wasn't anything
      much besides reclusion left for her.
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