It was Dead before I hit it
I'm really from a small town, people probably couldn't guess by the way I act, but I wasn't always used to the big cities and stuff. It just grew on me.
Actually, I started off in a town who's name I conveniently forgot, but used to be called "the Bucket" for it's one and only restaurant, "The Bucket". It was small, in the middle of nowhere, with a few houses, and about fifty people, maybe less.
The place wasn't all that shabby, but there was always a lot of heat and dust and sometimes it got into engines and hair and machinery in general, so most people were used to having to clean things out before starting them up. We didn't get to shower much though.
My parents were normal people, "dad" was a mechanic, and "mom" was a small time waitress in "The Bucket" and used to get pinched by the visitors a lot.
I always hung out with my "dad", we fixed cars, and fridges, and toasters and sometimes air conditioners, and I learned a lot from him.
They weren't really bad folks, just very old fashioned, "mom" always had us eat dinner quietly, then they drank wine (only on Sundays) and I drank water, and then "dad" would explain everything that happened to him at work, and "mom" would forget to tell him how many times she'd been pinched.
It was funny, really. At first, I didn't understand, but then I happened to learn about sex and loyalty and suddenly, "mom" didn't seem such a great person any more. Instead, she seemed like a pretty slut.
It's the worse that could happen to a kid. I think so any way. My mom was always at the diner and once, I came to visit and found her in the washroom, getting banged by some guy.
At first, I thought that something was wrong, but then eventually, I realized that this is how she really got the money. And I stopped pretending to love them any more.
Actually, it wasn't really my mom being a slut, it was just the fact that I started seeing outside the perfect life I had and realized that really, it was a big ol' game of sex and who gets banged more often.
Things started falling apart after that. Small things first, but then it got too big to hid any more, so I couldn't even pretend everything was right.
Then the last straw happened. We were at the mechanics shop "dad" owned, and we were sitting on the roof of a ruined car, enjoying some sandwiches.
"Dad" was only a few inches from me, and suddenly, he seemed closer, I ignored it until it happened again, and then again, until he was just behind me, on the roof of the car.
He was breathing down my neck and I didn't understand why it was uncomfortable, and then I froze because something was pocking at me.
I turned around and saw that his erection was resting at the small of my back, pocking at my shirt. I almost screamed, but then he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap and whispered "I've been meaning to talk to you for a long time…"
I felt like screaming, he was right behind me and I couldn't do anything because he was holding me tightly, and his erection wasn't on my back any more.
He breathed on my neck, and it scared me enough to shiver, so he took it as a sign that I had the same feelings and pressed me closer to him. I shivered again and squirmed and almost screamed but couldn't because his mouth was on mine and I was scared to let him into my mouth.
I was almost out of oxygen when he let me go, but was still strong enough to run as soon as his hands went down to his zipper.
I ran away, and home, and he didn't seem to catch up to me, so I got home and sat on my bed and cried, because he had been the only person I had trusted.
I didn't think he might have really "loved" me, because people like "dad" didn't love, they played and they wanted and they got.
And that's it.
I kept to my room and locked myself in, at night, I had a nightmare that I was the one getting banged by that guy, and he looked like "dad" way too much.
It happened a few weeks after that, and was calmed enough to walk around the town by then, but I didn't see it happen. Just heard someone scream and ran towards it, because there aren't many screams heard in "The Bucket".
I got there only to see my parent's bloody bodies on the street. They had gotten run over and the car had tried to swerve, tipped, and was in the corner of my vision, the driver seemed to be moving but I couldn't really tell.
They were dead. That was a shock, because I had expected to live my life like this, with them, in this town. And now they were dead.
I came over and knelt by my mother's body, and all I saw was a slut. And when I looked at my father. I didn't see "dad" any more, I just saw a body.
And I hated it because I hated him and wished that he hadn't died such a quick death but instead had been tortured before my eyes and had pleaded. So I kicked him.
I kicked my father's body and it felt good, so I did it again and again. Until someone pulled me away and asked me what had happened, and I kicked them, too.
I don't remember much of anything after that. Not how I got to the train station, or how I got on it, for that matter.
All I remember was sitting on a bag of wheat and trying not to cry, because I was alone, I was hungry, and my head hurt.
My powers developed shortly after that. I had headaches and seizures and I was always sick. It felt like part of my mind was getting up and leaving. Sometimes I couldn't get to whatever place I was living in and slept on the streets, passed out cold on the sidewalk.
Finally, they stopped. Not really, but the seizures went away, to be replaced by the constant nagging pain. I dealt with it and it wasn't that bad any more.
I got a job as soon as I looked old enough. I was ten and looked fourteen and they accepted me. I worked at a diner, like the one "mom" had worked at, and it was nice enough. The money I got from it kept me alive, fed, and paid for the room I rented in a local Motel 6.
It wasn't all bad, because I got into school, faked some records, and started on fifth grade. I also got adopted by a couple of old people.
Actually, the police found out that I was an underage kid living by himself; I got arrested and sent to the orphanage, to be adopted by the old couple.
Later, they moved to Bayville, well…they moved around a lot, tagging me along, lots of big cities, until I finally got settled in Bayville and liked it, so I ran away and settled for a job and a cheep hotel room.
Then, I met Mystique, and later Todd and the brotherhood, which wasn't all that grand, but they were mutants, and I joined, if only to be able to stop working.
Later, I met Kitty Pryde, who was a ditz, and overly trusting, not to mention annoying and, to put it in her words "like, totally a LOSER!!" naturally, Mystique (who was giving out orders to us, what a bitch) wanted the girl because she could walk through walls and stuff, a kind of useless power, unless you're going to break into buildings.
I tried to get her to join, but she decided she liked the X Men better and became my enemy, never mind that I helped her with her powers. Well, not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, anyway.
Then we had some new additions, Pietro, Rogue. Then Rogue left, big deal.
Ok, so I wasn't exactly glad about it, she *was* the only girl with us, and she could cook. Kinda made the place a little nicer…actually, she didn't. I was just joking. She was a lonely Goth bitch who listened to music and read some garbage and drew all these senseless pictures. We only saw her at dinner and breakfast. Well…maybe lunch too.
And after school.
Then she left and no one really minded, except Todd, who ranted about her being a traitor and all. Who cares? It's not like she did anything here any way. I don't miss her at all, well…no. Not at all.
Then we had a whole big fiasco about "Magneto" and his stupid "war to save mutants." And Mystique abandoned us and I got a job again.
I like this, I really do. I'd like things to stay like this forever, with the brotherhood as my family. I'd like it to stay like this until I'm old enough to shoot myself without second thoughts.
I like being the oldest, and I like working to keep us alive, because that's what a family does, and I can almost tell they're grateful for it.
Pietro always says "morning" at breakfast, and he's grinning like an idiot, usually because he got a little too much sugar in his de-cafe, but he grins extra hard when he's the one cooking breakfast, so I think he might just be doing it just because he's happy.
Todd likes to seek us out at lunch and say his customary "lets do lunch" bit, and maybe it's because he doesn't get beaten up as much when we're around, but he comes over even if he knows Duncan and his jock asses aren't there, so I'm hoping that he *wants* to have lunch with us.
Fred always tries to decline when I have to help him with his homework, and maybe he's trying to get me off his case, but I prefer to see that he wants me to be able to finish mine.
Ok, so I'm probably seeing things, but hey! It beats the real world!
The one thing I hate about this place (other then the X losers) is the teachers.
They're assholes who pretend to know everything and like to pick on me, one of them gave me detention and wouldn't hear it about my job! He said that in his day, he had to work to get *everything*! I think he meant things like books and CDs and small things your parents should buy you.
Someday, I'd really like to tell his that my job is keeping me and three other kids alive, and that I don't even try to joke about getting anything other then food and toilet paper.
They try to get it across that they've dealt with a lot more then us in their day, and it's annoying, because I've nearly gotten raped by my father, I had to get a job as soon as possible, and I spent a few years of my life living by myself on the streets.
I've never seen more then a hundred dollars, hell, my parents probably haven't even thought of more then a thousand!
I hate adults, they're annoying and they say they know what's good for me and they don't, they have no idea what I really need or want.
I hate them because they pretend to try to help, but all they really want is personal gain, I hate them because they're fake and cheap and plastic, and they don't care.
I'd really like to see a "grown up" who's not cheap and fake. I'd like to see the real thing.
I don't think they exist though.
Some times, I get scared, not that it shows, or matters much for that matter, but I get scared that there'll be some sort of rules against mutants next. It's been on the news before, the senators' talk about it all the time, "they're human, just different",
"They're subhuman, something but animals that make living dangerous for the rest of us."
I'm scared they'll do what they did in Europe, seek and destroy. I'm afraid they're going to find this little town, and they'll miss the perfect X freaks, but find us. Because we're oh-so-inconspicuous. No one notices four kids living together in a crappy old place, without proper…well, anything.
Anything, that's the word to describe it. Nothing, too.
It's anything, or nothing. Depending on what you're talking about. Sometimes it's anything, like anything we can get by without, anything we can save on. Anything we can do to survive.
And sometimes it's nothing, like, nothing to go back to, nothing to look forward to, nothing but being alive right now.
Nothing but what I can see.
That's not always true, either, because I can see normal people, but I'm not one of them, and I can see birthday presents, but I don't get them, and I can see parents, but I don't have any.
It's more like, everything I see in the house, nothing is hidden, mainly because there isn't really anything to hide (except food, sometimes.)
Everyone I can see, because there is no other relatives out there somewhere. Nothing and everything, and anything. They describe my life.
I want to be normal, mutants are so much worse off, because it's dangerous to go to the doctor. For Pietro and his metabolism, as well as the whole different muscular system thing, it's a danger to get a check up (like we can afford it, anyway) if he ever breaks something, it'll be dangerous to set it right.
He doesn't break anything though.
For Todd, too, and for Freddy. I'll be fine for everything short of brain surgery. (I have never seen enough money for setting bones right, so no real need to worry.)
I hate to think about these things, because I get angry at the world for being such a shit hole, and at god (if he exists) for making us different from everyone else. I hate god for making us different, I hate him and don't believe in him, because it's payback. Any way, why believe in someone who's destroyed your life?
I hate the teachers too, and the X freaks, for being perfect and for being better off then we are. They get everything while we get the leftovers, and why? I really don't know, but I'm sure they can blame it on me.
It's probably my fault anyway.
It's dead, everything's dead, everything I can see right now is dead, I'm lying on my back in a private forest (the owner threatened to shoot me) and it's dead, just like the sky, and the polluted lake, and my life in general.
I don't think I made it dead though, or maybe I did, maybe I did by being born, but I can blame "mom" for that, so I will.
END
A/N: this is probably too much like another "mussing" but there's already one for Lance, so I'll just post it on it's own.
This story is for the person (www.ta.com) who asked for a Lance story about his past. I hope this is a satisfaction. Personally, I don't think it was as good as some of the other rants, but I'd still like some reviews!!