This is the story of a young woman. Not your average fluffy romance with a girl in a room filled with pink plushies and pop idol posters. This girl was unique. She was lonely, isolated from years of betrayal and pain. Few she could trust, and even less she could call friends.

She didn't live alone, though. Day by day she would go through life surrounded by others yet alone in so many other ways. She was supposed to be in a place where people were going through the same thing as she, yet even there no one could relate with her.

No one ever saw the poor girl, hidden in the shadows. But she saw them. She saw everything about the others unwillingly, even things they didn't know about themselves. She saw the dark side to everyone yet no one saw anything but the mask she skillfully put in front of her.

This girl filled with angst and trouble, was a mutant. With the power to steal others lives, their secrets, their skills, everything that made them themselves just with one touch. And she had no control over it. It was quite depressing for her to go through life without being able to have human contact. Plus, the psyches in her head from the others she absorbed loved talking to her nonstop. Not to mention the constant betrayals, mutant haters, others trying to take over the world and just general chaos.

Normally, when humans live in a mansion filled with mutants like them, they feel accepted and welcomed, where people would no longer be afraid of them. She was pretty sure they meant for her to feel that way, but it still hurt whenever they winced when she touched them, even after being covered from head to toe, smothered by tights and gloves. They feared her powers, feared getting close. And it hurt her more than she ever let on.

This, readers, is the story of the Rogue.

Author's Note: Yup, I did it. I started another story. Yes, I know I should be updating my other story, but I just couldn't resist. This is probably going to be my crap story, anyway. I don't like how I wrote this. But I don't care. BWA HA HA HA!