Disclaimer: I own nothing in x-men blah blah blah, you all get the point, and I have no money…..
A/N: this was a really random idea I had when I saw the third movie. Pyro is a sexy beast and he happens to be my favorite character apart from Mystique. I hate my own writing so just tell me what you think…..
Grimm Chpt. 1
"She tried it again, fucking psycho."
"What is this, like the tenth time? She can't die, doesn't she realize that?"
"I guess not, the stupid freak."
"Shut up, what if she can hear you, we could get in trouble."
"So what? Its not like Watson gives a shit, she's a mutant for christs sake! Even if she was screaming bloody murder he wouldn't care!"
"Well she can't die anyways..."
"Alright, whatever. Lets just get her set up and go do more important shit, I gotta get ready for a hot date I have tonight with Frank."
"Frank from front desk? Oooh, I'm jealous..."
The voices of the gossiping nurses trailed off as they exited the room. As soon as they were gone the young woman they had been speaking so highly of slowly opened her eyes. I could kill those bitches if I wanted to, me complaining should be the least of their worries, she thought to herself as she absorbed her surroundings. She was strapped down to a bed in the middle of a plain cream colored dirty old room. There was one window and it was right next to her, blinding her eyes with sunlight. This was her least favorite room in the entire asylum, not because she was hopelessly strapped down to a bed, but because it was where she went after each failed suicide attempt. If the walls could talk, they would laugh at her and say nice try, but you're fucked. She loathed this room.
The door slid open slowly as a familiar face, Dr. Ralph Watson, entered the room. He was a short balding man with an unpleasant face and a small mustache to try and make himself look older. He had a high pitched annoying voice and huge round glasses. He was looking through a file, probably hers, and thinking to himself. After a moment he looked up at her and gave her that asshole smirk that he always had around her.
"Ms. Layla Frost, how many times do we have to go through this?" he said while shifting his glasses on his head. "You've tried to kill yourself, let's see...8 times now, and each time you have failed. Killing other people doesn't seem to be a problem however." He had a great distaste in his voice. The young lady lying on the bed just stared blankly at the man she had grown to hate.
Dr. Watson paced around thinking, which he always did before he gave her one of his speeches. He then looked through the file some more and finally turned to face her. If only I could get my hands on you, you fucking bastard.
"We had Ms. Lees funeral the other day, you know the nurse you turned into ashes. I thought you should know it went well." He then cleaned off his glasses and put them in his pocket. Leaning over her and staring right into her eyes, he got the evil look he always had when he was about to say something that he really shouldn't say. To Layla it was when he showed his true side. "You would love to kill me wouldn't you; I sometimes think it's why you try to kill yourself so much, so we can have these moments together." He hovered his hand above hers and moved it with a stroking motion to provoke her. "I mean what do you take me for." He stood straight again and put his glasses back on. "You know you can't kill yourself, its part of your mutation. Now, as a punishment you're going to have to stay in solitary for an extra 6 months, which adds up to what now, 2 years? Enjoy." He smiled at her showing his disgusting yellow teeth, and exited the room.
Layla stared at the door, wishing that she could just get that one chance to kill him. It was his fault that she was in here to begin with, his fault that she was in solitary, and his fault that she had been labeled a psychopathic murderer. She hadn't meant to kill all those people, she just couldn't control her power. Nobody seemed to understand, let alone care, about that aspect. However, she seemed to be forgetting that herself. She had been in this asylum for so long that she had forgotten who she once was, and almost believed the lies that the doctor had been drilling into her brain. Death was all she knew, it consumed her. Her mutation had done that, her ability to kill people with the slightest touch had ruined her life. Her parents had turned to ash right in front of her eyes, leaving her scarred forever. Ever since Layla had gained her mutation at the tender age of 13, slowly but surely, everything that had made her happy dissolved into ashes.
She started to breathe heavily as a tear slid down her cheek. Then she let out a piercing scream that echoed throughout the entire room, the hall, and even the lady at the front desk jumped at the sound. She kept it up for god knows how long, trying to make everyone else feel the pain that she was tired of feeling.
