It was the darkness that she got used to first. The dismal abyss that she jumped into that had no bottom.
For it was inside of her.
But the voices, the constant whispering. The echoes of distant conversations that surrounded and clung to her, and seeped through her skin. That was what she couldn't take.
Rogue was going mad.
But she couldn't stop it. She found she had an appetite for flesh. The soft smooth skin; the subtle feel of it underneath her fingers.
She craved it. Needed it.
Right and wrong. She gave up on those first.
It had been so easy.
She hadn't meant to kill him that day. The one who showed her discipline; gave her the control. One small inadvertent contact: her hand holding on like a super charged magnet. Power rushing into her; minds shooting toward her at incredible speed.
The rush. The ecstasy. The freedom.
She had felt regret then, an emotion that plagued her. Crawled into her and made itself at home.
But it disappeared soon enough.
The others trying to reach out to her. Help her. But she knew what they felt underneath their veneers of kindness and sympathy; heard their thoughts and knew their intentions.
Fear mostly. Anxiety perhaps. Love as well. But she didn't care about love. The mere thought of it sickened her.
But it was the other ones that fed her and woke that dark part of her up, coming from more than one individual, that she found she hungered for.
Want. Need. Lust.
She let them believe she was better. Learning how to wear different masks. Her emotions and actions spilling out of her with deliberation. Everything calculated and planned, thought out and carried through. Her powers escalating. Doors opening up to her as the voices inside spoke to her. Some within her even trying to reach her; help her from the inside.
She just pushed them down further. She knew exactly what she was doing.
A look, a penetrating gaze that held warmth and possibilities underneath it. Accidental brushings against a body, a coy smile, words spoken that held promises in them.
Being shy and reserved. Being bold and adventurous.
Whatever it took to draw them in.
It was the leader she conquered first, the one who was supposed to be mindful and cautious. In control. She hadn't expected it to be so easy. She let him touch her, let him kiss her mouth and whisper in her ear. Let him believe that he was strengthening her, healing her, and taking away the pain.
She told him things she knew he wanted to hear. Made him believe he was the only one.
But he wasn't.
It was the loner next; the one who was carnal and full to the brim with urges, that proved a little more difficult. For while he might of had longings toward her he also believed she was a boundary of some sort, one that was not supposed to be crossed. She eased that out of him, and chipped away at the resolve little by little. Letting him believe he was in charge of the whole thing; when in reality she was getting inside him deeper, tearing down the walls that made him resist so.
He gave in easily enough in the end.
She lived in the passion, the erotic emotions and the endless caresses. Rough. Gentle. Seeking. Finding. She felt and touched and breathed in life through the men; at the same time taking from them. Drawing away their strength and powers. Storing them inside of her with the others.
For one just never knew. And one could never have enough.
She found she was good at deception, and even better at lying. The loner and leader never finding out about each other. Both secure in what they believed they had with her.
Not knowing it was all a falsehood. Not seeing into the depths of her; not understanding that Rogue and Marie were no more; both having merged inside with the other personalities. Everything creating a new person that had been born when she had killed the man that might as well have been her father.
She was Lost. Fragile, unreachable, and bitterly cold. A small part of her wanting to be stopped, or found out.
Before it was too late.
For she was growing.
And so were her needs.