Really, I have no clue where this came from, but it came, so I decided to post it. It's just an oneshot. I suppose I wrote it because today just sucked. And when I have nobody to talk to about things, I write, so. Just R & R.
Warren pushed the blade a little deeper. The pain rang through his body, but he ignored it, as best he could. He just pressed harder. Wrists. Chest. Legs. Wings.
He finally withdrew the knife and laid it stilly on the bathroom counter. He glanced around at all the blood and torn feathers lying at his feet. He gulped in a large breath of air and grabbed a towel from his closet. As he began to clean it up, he felt the sticky red substance against the cloth. He began to shake, but didn't stop. If Storm or Mr. McCoy found out, they'd lock him up somewhere or something. They'd stop him from ever doing this again. And he couldn't let that happen.
He had to do it. The physical pain that he felt…it felt much better than the emotional problems that were trapped in his mind. They hurt more. His father. The cure.
Their was a sharp knock at his dorm-room door and he jumped. Warren washes his hands hastily. He quickly slammed the bathroom door shut and grabbed a shirt, tugging it over his bleeding arms, and broken body.
"Warren?" a female voice asked, knocking a little harder.
"One second," he yelled, shoving the knives under a loose floorboard.
"Warren, what's going on?" the frantic female questioned, jiggling the handle.
"Hold on!" he shouted, shoving some more in a drawer. He quickly rustled up the bed sheets, to make it seem as if he'd just been napping.
"Open the door!" The female ordered, beginning to bang. He sped towards the door and unlocked it, opening it casually.
Marie looked him over and gave him a look so angry, he looked away, ashamed.
"Again?" she asked, tugging at a corner of his shirt in which the blood had seeped through.
"I'm sorry," he whined. She entered the room and shut the door behind her. She tugged him closer and harshly tugged off the shirt. She gazed in horror at his bloody body. She groaned when she saw no wings left on his back, just two little stubs.
"Tell me why, Warren."
Warren walked over to the window and looked out at the sunset. Rogue watched cautiously from behind. "Just answer me, damn it!" she growled, spinning him around. She was extremely startled to see his cheeks stained with tears, and his eyes growing red. She pulled him against her and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
He relaxed against her warm body, but didn't stop crying.
"Show me where the knives are," she whispered. He hesitantly pulled away and walked over to his top dresser drawer. He pulled it open and sighed. She stuck her hand inside and pulled out all of the sharp blazes.
"What else do you have?" she asked. He lifted the floorboard and she repeated the same process. Once she had collected all of the knives, she helped him clean the bathroom. When the last blood had been wiped up, and the last feather gathered, she ordered him to take a shower and waited patiently on his bed until he got out.
In an hour or so, he came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
"It's all gone, I made sure it all went down the drain," he said quietly. Rogue nodded.
"You aren't your father, Warren. At all. When you have kids, you'll be a great father, and you have nothing to worry about."
"Who'd wanna have kids with me?" he hissed, grabbing his clothes from his dresser.
Rogue sighed, "Your girlfriend maybe."
"Rogue, I'm…sorry," he murmured, "But I guess that's not enough, is it?"
"I just want you to realize that even if you don't have support from your family, you have mine. I've grown quite fond of you, you know. I mean, this year has been great but…"
"You have to end it?" he asked, "Because of my problem."
"No. I want to help you; I just can't spend all the time worrying about you. It's too distracting."
"I don't want to distract you."
Rogue smiled, "Sometimes, when you can't get somebody out of your head, they're supposed to be there."