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FIC: Not The Same 1/? (PG, Rogue POV)

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  • nosexy4u@aol.com
    Title: Not The Same Author: Ania Rating: PG for now Catagory: Rogue/? I am not exactly sure yet. Either Bobby or Logan, but most likely Logan Summary: Rogue
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 29, 2000
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      Title: Not The Same
      Author: Ania
      Rating: PG for now
      Catagory: Rogue/? I am not exactly sure yet. Either Bobby or Logan, but most
      likely Logan
      Summary: Rogue decides to run and listen to the voices in her head
      Archived: Just ask and I'll most likely say yes.
      Author's note: I am not exactly sure where I want to go with this. I just had
      to write it. I don't know if I'll continue. For now it is just a one part
      thing. This is also pretty much my first fic that I am posting, I am normally
      a lucker but I thought I'd try my hand at this. Enjoy.
      ______________________________________________________________________

      Two years. It's been two years since I last had any peace in my mind. There
      are so many voies in my head right now. I can't tell which is which. They've
      all kind of melded together and become one voice.
      One voice that tells me to do things, bad things.
      Sure, Logan's voice is in their somewhere, along with mine, Magneto and many
      others.
      I've killed. I'm a killer. I don't belong here among the X-Men. I belong out
      there in the wild. Where I can hunt.
      Jean and Professor X know something is wrong with me, but I built too many
      walls for them to get through. They don't know what to do. I don't talk to
      anyone, and when I do I usually just yell at them and lash out. I don't even
      wear gloves anymore. I wear shorts and a tank top. If anyone touches my skin,
      it's their fault. This also helps me isolate myself.
      Poor Bobby. I put him in a coma, lasted about a week. I didn't mean to, it
      just happened. I was walking down the hall, ignoring everybody. He wanted to
      tell me something, so he grabbed my arm. It hurts to be forgetfull about me.
      That is why I am leaving. Find somewhere where I don't have to worry about
      touching people. I know there is someplace out their where I belong, I just
      have to find it.
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