Freakin Bitch
Never had it been a sader day for me. The day they robbed me of my independence, of me, of my life, the way it was, hard but fair…
I was sleeping in the woods for couple of daays now. Didn t have no where else to go, all of my money was spent. I could get it, I could, but I was sick and tired of stealing.
At first, I was worried cos of the wild animals and such, but pretty soon I realised how that s not a problem at all, especially with my powers. It s the weirdoes you godda keep your eyes open for. Cos they come in all shapes, all sizes, you can t even tell who are the real freaks with telepathic powers or the more subtle ones like mine…everybody has killing someone and raping someone, stealing something, screwing and slaugthering on their minds.
Can t tell where the people end and the circus begins….
Some are harmless, some are human, some are mutant and some are psycotic.
Once I saw one of them, thirty years or so, in the woods, raping a sixteen year old girl.
My first, honest reaction was, «Yeah, so?»
It s not because I m heartless, it s because I was getting pretty sick of the outdoors life, really sick, sneezin my ass off all freakin day and night sick. In no mood, or health to start a fight. With anybody. Not that I would usually do anything.
All in all…call me a evil bitch, but I do feel that the girl deserved cos she probably provoked it. I knew that even before I checked.
She was the one that went hopping around in mini skirts, playing innocent. She was the one that obviously had no ability of lookin after herself. Seducing an older, crazier man under false pretences. If I were the law, I would put her sorry ass in jail.
His too. But the bottom line is: if you re gonna do something, you better do it right and keep yourself alive an well.
Why should I help her?
In real life…she d probably just pass me by, call me a «bitch», «freak», «mutie» or whatever…
So, why should I help her?
For the record…I didn t. But I could snap that guy like a twig without a blink of an eye. Never mind.
I turned around and walked away.
Does that make me a coward?
Do you think I m a coward?
Offcourse not. It s just the bitch-thing, isn t it?
So…I went. Into the city. I decided to spend the night in a bed, not in the wilderness where people go to screw eachother round. A nice, warm and soft, «proper» bed. I remember my old «proper» bed back in Egypt.
Piece of freakin shit.
A roof over your head, three meals a day, a warm «proper» bed.and a needle shooting some yellow stuff into your spine and knees. Real nice and «homy».
Still don t know nothing about their plans for me, about what that stuff was…maybe it fixed me up real nice, maybe my whole skin is gonna get like under my knees….snake-like…maybe I ll die tomorow…maybe in a couple of days, mybe in a year…who knows…
Never mind that.
I didn t focus on coverin up what I just did. A cop spotted me. I didn t run. Didn t have to.
He came up to me, sick old bastard, askin me to have seks with him and what not, to «make it all better, no arrest, no prosecution».
«You make me sick.», I sounded like that whore from MTV, started focusing on his energy, draggin it out of him.
Not into me, offcourse, I wasn t that desperate.
Many times I have thought of that. feeding on people, getting all of my energy from them. Like a vampire.
The only problem wasthe taste. Emotions have a taste, it s almost like food, better, it s a stronger sensation. And I have never tasted something that I like.
I heard a beeping noise. It was too familiar. Someone was scaning me.
I tried to find that person, but I completley freaked out, didn t make things easier for myself…
For a moment it was all balnk. Till I could see nothing but three letters, repeating themselves into infinity…
FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH FOH
It didn t take those guys long to appear out of nowhere.
«How could I not sence them before?», I was mad, «God damn!»
They were screaming, «Get that mutant! Don t let her escape!», it was obvious that they were pointing at me. All the people around me got all anti-mutant and savage. Did I do something to piss them off? No, I did not. Yet, the bitches turned on me.
Put that shit aside. I escaped and passed with flying damned colors.
I did stuff, things that I never knew I could do, gettin stuff on fire, moving it around…ended up in a filthy bar in the other side of town where I could not breathe.
A short, dark man approached me, «Lookin a little lost there darlin.», he sat beside me, «Mind some company?»
«Well as a matter of fact, yes I do mind.»
He grabed a beer can, opened it using a blade that kinda appeared from his hand, appeared as appeared from thin air, grew out of his hand…or something like it…
«You can call me Logan.», he was starting to get friendly.
«And you can call me gone.», I got up, ready to leave.
«Whoah there!», he held me back, «You re not going anywhere.»
To be honest, I didn t wanna argue with him, he looked like…..hell with it….I don t know….like real trouble…
I senced how he was completley secure in himself. Yeah, I could use that against him. He won t expecting anything sudden.
I started to drain him. He d soon be weary, enough for me to lose him. But I stopped. His memories…so vivid, I could touch them like a piece of living, breathing flesh….the pain wasn t numb like in other people or mutants who keep it locked up, so that it doesn t hurt anymore…it was sharp, alive…..he was a ginny pig too….in a lab…..senceless pain….and he barely remembered it….
«Is that so?», I continued with the conversation, feeling safer cos of what I just had found out. Not a smart thing to do. Even a naked mind can be decieving, «Well…my name is fucked up, but my dear enemies can call me Sabe, maybe Essa, if I m in a good mood.»
He lifted his eyebrow, «Any particular reason for that name?»
«Wich one?», I knew he was asking why Sabe, but why should I make it obviece that I know that?
«Sabe. Why Sabe?»
«Why don t you ask why Essa?»
«Not interested in Essa.»
«And I m not interested in deep-minded philosophying about my name.»
«You know…you should learn to play games before you start em.»
«You really think I m playing games?»
Now…he s getting ready to tell me something, just can t figure out what….
«Look kid, I m not gonna fool you around.
The reason I m here is cos I m sent here. I need to take you away to a good place for the likes of mutants, especially those who are pushing for it, like you. It s a safe place, nothing bad s gonna happen to you there.»
Fuckin shit! What da hell was that?
I got up and ran. He caught me, quick, like a wild animal of some sort. I punched him, but he punched me back.
A very heavy hand, the man had….I grabed a chair, he tried to calm me down, «Look now, I don t wanna hurt you. Maybe I didn t make myself clear just now…»
«No? Well to me it sounded perfectly clear you freakin bastard.»
A man tried to get him from behind, someone helping me for a change, but he just turned around, got three blades out of his fist, «Don t think so bub.»
I broke the chair over his head, drained him so he actually got dizzy and fell. But he got up again and people around us were not getting at all friendly. Why does shit like this always happen to me?
He pushed me against the nearby wall, I couldn t move but didn t stop draining him till it got too painful for me too. He grabed my neck, scratching it with his claws, «Quit it.», he growled.
Just then I senced a killer instinct, not on him, somewhere else, behind him. Someone was loading a gun. Someone drunk. Someone who would fire the rifle he had in his hands without a second thought, on me, not just on this Logan character.
He knew about it, don t know how, I htink he sniffed it out, turned around and knocked the guy out.
I crawled outside, through the window. He followed me. And he was fast, too fast. His claws were all out and shining in then ight. Freakin scary.
Couple of those FOH freaks came across us.they don t just quit.
How did they find me? Was I the one they followed?
It was my luck that my new «friend» sliced them up, really sliced and diced till their hearts stopped beating. So animalistic, primal and wild. I was bleeding from our fight, but now I realised how he was actually going easy on me, not letting himself go psyco.
I m being honest now, back then….I wouldn t stand a chance.
He turned around. I stood my ground. As I said, I can die today or tomorow, where s the freakin difference?
I was standing to die. Instead of that he just pulled me forward, «We got a long trip ahead.»
I hit him in the back to get away. Not a really nice thing to do, hell with it, I was gambling all the way anyway.
Then he lost his patience, he knocked me out. Son of a bitch.
And now…I m here. Locked up, tied up to a bed with needles in my hands, inside of something that looks like an underground lab.
Isn t life a freakin bitch?