Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title comes from Rob Thomas, the man's a friggen' genius!!
AN: I don't know where this came from; the idea just popped into my head and refused to get out!! Just for the record…I do not hate Scott at all, and I know he is way ooc here.
Deal with it. Warning: mentions of abuse and cutting.
It was the middle of the night when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. The wind screamed outside her window loud enough to wake the dead and rain came down in sheets, drenching anyone who was unfortunate enough to be caught in it. The girl in the mansion shuddered and held her breath as she heard the creak of his weight on the wood floors in the hallway. Hoping against hope that this night things would be different, the girl closed her eyes and silently begged whatever higher being was listening to help her. The doorknob turned and the door squeaked open and the girl knew that tonight would not be the night she was saved.
He smelled like a brewery. She could tell he'd been out drinking, could smell it on his breath from across the room, and it only heightened her fear. She knew what was coming now. It was the same every time. The worst part of it was that she couldn't even blame him. He was too drunk to know what he was doing, and he never remembered it in the morning. In a way, she felt she deserved this. This was her punishment for what had happened that day. She knew it was her fault. That's why she never fought back.
The door shut behind him with a quiet click and he turned to look at her, a half-sob half- laugh escaping his throat. For a second she wanted to cry out, scream for help, but she knew it would do no good. Her bedroom was far away from the other students the only person who could possibly hear her over the howling of the wind had taken off almost four months ago. The man moved across her floor until he was at her bedside. Her mattress dipped down under his weight as he sat down. She felt herself tense up when his hand brushed her hair out of her face, but if he noticed it didn't show. He continued to stroke her hair quietly and she tried not to let the tears that were burning behind her eyes fall. Suddenly, the gentle grasp on her hair became hard and he pulled her upright forcefully. The tears behind her eyes burned even more, but she blinked hard and pushed them back. Crying would only make this worse.
The hand grasping her hair was still there, pulling fiercely. His other hand was grabbing her upper arm with bruising force. She couldn't see into his eyes, but she knew they were full of hate and disgust, the same things she saw in her own eyes when she looked in the mirror.
"Why? Why her and not you?" If only he knew that she asked herself that very question every day. At her lack of response, he shook her violently; she was pretty sure some hair ripped out, but she had learned after the first few times that it was better to not answer him. The tears she had been trying so valiantly to keep in sprang forth and rolled down her face, huge and hot. At the sight of her tears the man became even angrier. He threw her off the bed and kicked her in the gut. She grunted in pain as his foot made contact with old bruises.
He continued to beat her until she could barely see straight, all the while cursing at her and calling her names. She was lying on the floor, curled up as tightly as possible, silent tears streaming down her cheeks waiting for yet another blow to rain down upon her. She looked up at him when he finally stopped. He was flushed and sweaty, and she was sure that if his mutation allowed him to cry he would be. The glasses he constantly wore prevented her from seeing his eyes so she wasn't sure if he was looking at her or not, but he had the same expression on his face that he usually did when he stopped beating her, still hateful, but also almost ashamed. He looked at her for a minute longer before turning around and shutting the door behind him.
The young mutant girl was left alone to tend to her injuries. Hobbling as best she could into the bathroom, she stripped and surveyed the damage in the mirror. It wasn't nearly as bad as last time. Nothing had pierced the skin, and nothing felt broken, just deeply bruised. She breathed a sigh of relief that her normal clothes, thanks to her mutation, could easily cover up all the bruises on her body and her attacker had knowingly avoided her face. Wincing from the movement of her body, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. She took out two of the painkillers she had stolen from the med lab when Hank wasn't looking and swallowed them with water from the tap.
The girl went back to her room. The storm was starting to quiet down and she lay down in bed and tried to get back to sleep. Unable to contain her sobs anymore, she buried her face in her pillow and let them out, screaming into the feathers in pain and fear. She felt so alone. There was a time, about four months ago, when she would have clutched the tags around her neck and found comfort in them, but she could no longer do that. She had given them back to their rightful owner, and both he and the tags were gone.
AN: It probably sucks, but let me know. Constructive criticism will only help me. Review, please!!