Not so Perfect

Her eyes were red from the tears she had shed. She grabbed the alcohol pads and started to clean her freshly new cuts. No one knew and no one ever would for she'd never let them. The use of alcohol towards her cuts was to clean them. She did it for two reasons; one it made her cuts sting, just causing more pain, and two because it made her cuts less likely to scar. She couldn't have scarring or everyone would notice and start asking questions.

She thought of herself as quite intelligent for thinking of everything. She would wear long-sleeved shirts when the wounds were still visible and when they faded she wouldn't have too. She never did wear many shirts exposing her arms anyway; she never had a good reason to. And when it was the heat of summer, her legs always helped, she just wouldn't have to go swimming.

How long had it been since she started this daily ritual? Too long, she knew it had been years but she wasn't sure on how many. Some cuts did scar her but they could be explained easily enough. It was weird to her really whenever she played volleyball, cuts that you could not see on her arm would show when her arm turned red from the repeat slamming on her forearms.

She shook her head and wrapped all the alcohol pads in toilet paper and then shoved them deep into her trashcan. It was only times when she had no sports to participate in that she cut her arms. She went back to her bed and lifted up her knife. She moved her pajama pant legs up and started to cut her thigh. Masses of blood started to spread and cover her thigh. Seeing this she decided to stop. She grabbed more toilet paper and whipped the blood off her knife. She then grabbed a wad of toilet paper and soaked up all the blood and now, again, it was time for her alcohol pads.

Her clock beeped at her; she looked at it and remembered what she had to do today.

She sighed and shut her eyes tight from the stinging of the alcohol on her wounds. She was sure they were done bleeding but just incase she grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around her thigh.

Getting up she went and changed quickly and then walked to her mirror and checked to make sure she hadn't looked as if she'd been crying and put on a beautiful smile. She then turned to her bedroom door and walked out.

She heard voices a head of her; "It's a great idea ta bond with everyone. She is so annoying! Miss. Perfect should stop being such a bitch to everyone just because her life's perfect and not everyone else's is. An' she thinks they should meet up ta her standards." A grumpy voice said to another.

"Like that's kinda harsh."

"It's true though!"

Her smile never faded as she heard the two girls speaking. Ones she identified as Rogue and Kitty. She knew many of the students talked bad about her behind her back. Called her Miss Perfect, how she could do no wrong, how she was always happy, that she had the perfect life, and how no one ever made her feel bad. Everyone loved her.

And that was fine with her. That was the point anyway; every one had to think she was perfect, and in ways it was true. She got straight A's, participated in sports, always looked happy, participated in charity, tried helping people, tried always to do the right thing, barely cursed, and well she was just perfect. And so some hated her for it but it never bothered her. It was the point; she pushed herself to be like that. Despite her stress, the pressure; despite everything. She would never stop it, she never could. She never spoke of how she really felt, she never really liked pity.

She just bottled everything up deep inside herself and put on her mask. She fooled everyone, and she was glad.

"Hey Jean!"

She turned to see the brunette man with his ruby glasses. "Hey Scott, how are you today?"

Scott smiled. "I'm doing fine." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think that last danger room session tweaked my neck."

She laughed, "I'm sorry, maybe you should get Hank to check it out for you."

He simply shrugged, "how are you?"

"Great!" She said with much enthusiasm. "I'm really glad we all are going to the fair. It's what a team should do."

"Go to the fair together?" Scott asked a bit confused.

She laughed and shook her head. "No, bond, you know hang out with each other, get to know each other a little better everyday? A team shouldn't just be brought together just to fight or train."

Scott nodded, "I suppose you're right."

~~~

They got into Scott's car. Kitty, Kurt, and Rogue were already there sitting in the back. Rogue looked bored and frustrated, Kitty and Kurt looked quite ecstatic.

She turned around and smiled at them. "We are going to have so much fun!"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah sure."

Kitty hit Rogue on the arm gently. "Oh like stop pouting we can like so go check out some guys."

"Dude I'm going straight for the rides." Kurt informed them.

Rogue didn't say anything and they went off to the fair.

~~~

They were leaving the fair now. Jean and Kitty were grinning. "That was so much fun!" Kitty exclaimed.

Scott rolled his eyes, "yeah right."

Kurt laughed at him. "Just because Jean has a good arm and won us all stuff animals while you couldn't doesn't mean you didn't have a good time."

Scott didn't say anything.

She just smiled, as she wasn't looking where she was going and just happened to fall.

Scott quickly ran to her side and grabbed her arm to help her up, but in reaction she let out a sharp breath of pain. He had squeezed the arm she had cut, and it stung.

Scott let go of her arm fearing he hurt her, "I'm sorry, are you ok?"

She swallowed and looked up at him, she got up. "I'm fine, really, I just I think I scrapped my knee.

Everyone bought it; she fooled people so well. They did always buy her perfect attitude, but she happened to look at Rogue and she was looking at her oddly.

"What is it? Is there something on my face?" She asked.

Rogue shook her head, "no."

~~~

They had gotten home and she ran up to her room having told everyone she was exhausted and that she had, had a long day that Friday; and in truth she had. She went and laid in her bed. She grabbed a pillow and cuddled with it. She breathed deeply and started to cry, soaking her face and her pillow with her salty tears.

It was the one thing she worried about Rogue. If she was afraid of anything she really was afraid of Rogue. Rogue could steal her memories her thoughts, sure telepaths could enter her mind but she always had mental shields up and the professor would never force himself in her mind. It was true Rogue absorbed her sometimes and surprising she had never buried up the information she kept locked inside of her.

She was thankful for it really, and she hoped Rogue never would; but that look she gave her at the fair... the way she stared at her; it was as if she knew, as if she could read her from the inside out. She shivered; no one could know the truth about her. The way she really felt, that everything was just an act. NO ONE! It was her own personal life to deal with. Everyone had to just keep on hating her, or loving her.

She blinked to let her blurry vision clear and went for her knife. This was just what she did, it was her daily life, it was how she lived, how she dealt with everything, everything no one had a clue about, and she'd never stop, she never wanted to, and most importantly no one could ever figure it out. She had to be her perfect self for everyone, but to her she just could be herself with no eyes watching; in her room, in the dark.

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Thanks muches to Sarah_Crysala for beta reading it ^_^ hugs lol hehe

A/N: please review even if you didn't like it. Thanks!

~*Rogue77*~