17 years and 58 seconds
Chapter 2
Logan had been gone for about eight months when I started my dark slide. The two times I had touched Logan had affected me more than I wanted to admit. It turns out that aside from some of his favorite curse words, I'd also picked up some of his memories. Memories of an intimate nature. Puberty has always been a bitch, but throw in the power to hurt someone when you're trying to be intimate and you've got a whole new set of problems.
Everywhere I looked at the school I saw couples hooking up. Holding hands, snuggling, hugging, kissing. If I thought it'd been
difficult back home, it was twice as hard now. Now I had Logan's memories - memories of sexual encounters with women - surging through my head. I saw Scott kiss Jean's neck once and I got a flash of Logan kissing a woman on the neck. The memory was so strong I could almost taste the sweat glistening on Logan's skin. Cold showers weren't helping anymore.
As I embraced my awakening sexual needs, the knowledge of my deadly skin caused me to spiral into a depression. No matter how many times the Professor tried to tell me it was a gift, I knew the truth. I was cursed. My skin was a weapon. My body was a tool. A tool for destruction and devastation. The Professor did try to help me - I'll always love him for that - but young female angst just wasn't his specialty. He once suggested I talk to Jean. He didn't need to read minds to understand how I felt about that suggestion. Jean wasn't at the top of my friends list and I was in no mood to listen to *her* tell me how a woman feels around a man.
Yeah, I knew about Jean and Logan's flirtation. Yeah, it bothered the hell out of me. That 'tell her my heart belongs to another' line he'd said soon floated around the school and back to me. As time went on, just the sight of her caused my blood to boil. Logan was attracted to *her*? She always look like she just finished eating something rotten. My Logan wanted her and not me? Of course he did, silly. He's a grown man and he thinks you're just a kid. He sees Jean as a grown woman, closer to his own age, beautiful - oh yeah, and she couldn't kill him by having sex with him. Gee, that's always a plus!
So that left Ororo - Storm - to talk to. She was nice, listened to me when I needed to vent. She was more like an older sister. When I started crying for no reason, she suggested I start keeping a journal. I'm thankful for that journal because it's helped me to understand where I was, and where I wanted to go. Eventually, even Ororo admitted that I might need professional help. The Professor reluctantly hired a therapist for me.
The delicious irony of the therapist was that just her -being- at the school drove me over the edge, into full blown depression. The other students knew about my moodiness. They knew about my anti-social behavior. But a person with a 'super power' needing a shrink? That was a joke to them! *I* was a joke! They avoided
me in the hallways, stopped inviting me to nights out at the movies. They whispered things they thought I couldn't hear. But I heard. I knew what they said about me. Crazy. Don't get close to her.
My therapist, a middle-aged woman with no special abilities except for her super sonic throat clearing, prescribed Zoloft, an anti-depressant, for me. This must be the end of living for me, I thought. Now I was a lonley zombie roaming the halls.
journal entry:
~No one talked to me today. No one. I'm crying now and can't seem to stop. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter anymore. What kind of future do I have?~
My therapist changed my medication when I stopped eating.
journal entry:
~Yesterday I stared at my hand until I almost hypnotized myself. My skin looks so harmless. Did God damn me to a life alone? Why doesn't He love me? Why does God want me to hurt people? I don't want to hurt them, I just want to be loved. Why can't I stop crying! Stop it! Stop it! Why me? Someone designed me to kill. I'm a tool. A weapon. A killer.~
The Professor became concerned when I stopped coming to classes. He came to visit me in my room, his face pained at the sight of me.
"Oh Marie." he said. I closed my eyes and the tears rolled down on their own. I didn't get out of bed the entire time he was in my room. In fact, I hadn't been out of my room in a week. The Professor spoke in a quiet, comforting voice and I pretended to listen.
"I'm sorry" I whispered.
He touched my hair softly and left the room. I knew my time was limited now.The Professor was going to do something drastic about me, maybe even hospitalize me. I had lifted a bottle of sleeping pills from my therapist's office last week and hid it in my room. Now was the time. I pulled out three letters along with the pills. One was to my parents, apologizing for my failure and thanking them for their care. A picture of my parents was on my dresser. I started crying again when I realized that I couldn't remember what my mother's touch felt like. I knew she smelled like vanilla and used to tell me wonderful bed time stories. But I couldn't remember her touch and knew I'd never get the chance again.
The second letter was to the Professor, thanking him for all of his work to help me.
The last letter, and by far the longest, was to Logan.
"Logan-
We made quite a pair, you and me. Me, incapable of basic human
contact. You, unable to stand basic human contact.
I know you think I'm just a kid, Logan. But I'm not. I'm a woman with a woman's needs and desires. Desires for love and physical affection. Who knew my own body would turn against me? Deny me the one thing that would make me whole?
But I'm tired, Logan. Tired of seeing what I can't have. I'm cursed, you know. Everyone else has gifts, something to treasure and feel pride for. Not me. My skin hungers for other skin - not for pleasure, but for pain. It was bad enough when all I felt was puppy love. Now, after knowing you and touching you -for a total of 58 seconds- I know 'this' isn't enough. It isn't enough for me to think about the man I want and not touch his face. It isn't enough for me to love from afar and hope one day I'll be able to bear a child that one day might hold my hand without fear. It's not enough anymore, Logan. I'm done. 17 years and 58 seconds of life but I was only really alive for those precious seconds with you.
I never wanted to save the world. I only wanted what other women want. Love, affection, companionship. Hope.
Ask yourself if you could live without feeling someone's touch. A handshake, a hug, a kiss. Ask yourself if you'd WANT to live without these things.
I don't.
In the next life, I fully intend to find you and spend the rest of my life making up for what we didn't get to do in this one.
Here's to what might have been.
Love,
-- Marie"
I left the letters on my bed and picked up my stash of pills and a
bottle of water. Sneaking through the school at night is an art. When someone says "The walls have ears" that's exactly right here. With all the different powers living under one roof, it's nearly impossible to get away with anything - from a midnight snack to finding a place to end your life. But if you want it bad enough, you can find a way.
I had a picture in my mind of how I wanted to be found. I wanted to look like I was at peace. Because really, that's all I want. Peace from my torment, peace from my life of looking but not touching.
There's a bench at the edge of the school grounds that overlooks a beautiful lake. I sat down with the pills and stared at the label. I wolfed down a handful of pills followed by the water. They tasted chalky and I nearly choked on the aftertaste. Once they settled in my stomach, I took another handful.
The sounds of the night sang to me as I curled up on the bench, waiting for oblivion. I smiled as thoughts of Logan came rushing to my mind. I imagined what it would have been like if he loved me and I wasn't a freak. The picture was so clear in my head that I started crying with happiness. He'd smile at me and I'd run into his arms. He'd twirl me around and kiss me so passionately it'd take my breath away. I'd lay my head on his bare chest and feel his heart beating - beating for me.
I sighed at the perfection of it.
I struggled to keep my eyelids open as the pills started to kick in. At last, I thought. As my eyes closed I caught a glimpse of a shadow moving to my side. Oh no, someone's seen me. They're going to ruin everything! I tried to sit up and see who was spoiling my going away party. I was woozy from the effort and swayed side to
side on the bench.The shadow has now moving directly toward me.
"Go away." My voice was barely a squeak. I shook my head and tried again. The shadow now had form. A man, my brain registered. Oh crap, Scott? Damn!
"Let me be. Go away" My words were slurred but my intent was clear as I waved an arm in the shadow's general direction. Suddenly I had no strength left. The pills had worked. I closed my eyes for what I thought was the last time.
"Sorry, babe. I can't let you do this."
What? That voice! It can't be! With every bit of strength I had left, I opened my eyes. I felt the sensation of being picked up, cradled in someone's arms. My head fell backward and I could finally see who was carrying me.
Logan.
I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment. Logan's face and
his voice would be the last things I'd remember.
Chapter 2
Logan had been gone for about eight months when I started my dark slide. The two times I had touched Logan had affected me more than I wanted to admit. It turns out that aside from some of his favorite curse words, I'd also picked up some of his memories. Memories of an intimate nature. Puberty has always been a bitch, but throw in the power to hurt someone when you're trying to be intimate and you've got a whole new set of problems.
Everywhere I looked at the school I saw couples hooking up. Holding hands, snuggling, hugging, kissing. If I thought it'd been
difficult back home, it was twice as hard now. Now I had Logan's memories - memories of sexual encounters with women - surging through my head. I saw Scott kiss Jean's neck once and I got a flash of Logan kissing a woman on the neck. The memory was so strong I could almost taste the sweat glistening on Logan's skin. Cold showers weren't helping anymore.
As I embraced my awakening sexual needs, the knowledge of my deadly skin caused me to spiral into a depression. No matter how many times the Professor tried to tell me it was a gift, I knew the truth. I was cursed. My skin was a weapon. My body was a tool. A tool for destruction and devastation. The Professor did try to help me - I'll always love him for that - but young female angst just wasn't his specialty. He once suggested I talk to Jean. He didn't need to read minds to understand how I felt about that suggestion. Jean wasn't at the top of my friends list and I was in no mood to listen to *her* tell me how a woman feels around a man.
Yeah, I knew about Jean and Logan's flirtation. Yeah, it bothered the hell out of me. That 'tell her my heart belongs to another' line he'd said soon floated around the school and back to me. As time went on, just the sight of her caused my blood to boil. Logan was attracted to *her*? She always look like she just finished eating something rotten. My Logan wanted her and not me? Of course he did, silly. He's a grown man and he thinks you're just a kid. He sees Jean as a grown woman, closer to his own age, beautiful - oh yeah, and she couldn't kill him by having sex with him. Gee, that's always a plus!
So that left Ororo - Storm - to talk to. She was nice, listened to me when I needed to vent. She was more like an older sister. When I started crying for no reason, she suggested I start keeping a journal. I'm thankful for that journal because it's helped me to understand where I was, and where I wanted to go. Eventually, even Ororo admitted that I might need professional help. The Professor reluctantly hired a therapist for me.
The delicious irony of the therapist was that just her -being- at the school drove me over the edge, into full blown depression. The other students knew about my moodiness. They knew about my anti-social behavior. But a person with a 'super power' needing a shrink? That was a joke to them! *I* was a joke! They avoided
me in the hallways, stopped inviting me to nights out at the movies. They whispered things they thought I couldn't hear. But I heard. I knew what they said about me. Crazy. Don't get close to her.
My therapist, a middle-aged woman with no special abilities except for her super sonic throat clearing, prescribed Zoloft, an anti-depressant, for me. This must be the end of living for me, I thought. Now I was a lonley zombie roaming the halls.
journal entry:
~No one talked to me today. No one. I'm crying now and can't seem to stop. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter anymore. What kind of future do I have?~
My therapist changed my medication when I stopped eating.
journal entry:
~Yesterday I stared at my hand until I almost hypnotized myself. My skin looks so harmless. Did God damn me to a life alone? Why doesn't He love me? Why does God want me to hurt people? I don't want to hurt them, I just want to be loved. Why can't I stop crying! Stop it! Stop it! Why me? Someone designed me to kill. I'm a tool. A weapon. A killer.~
The Professor became concerned when I stopped coming to classes. He came to visit me in my room, his face pained at the sight of me.
"Oh Marie." he said. I closed my eyes and the tears rolled down on their own. I didn't get out of bed the entire time he was in my room. In fact, I hadn't been out of my room in a week. The Professor spoke in a quiet, comforting voice and I pretended to listen.
"I'm sorry" I whispered.
He touched my hair softly and left the room. I knew my time was limited now.The Professor was going to do something drastic about me, maybe even hospitalize me. I had lifted a bottle of sleeping pills from my therapist's office last week and hid it in my room. Now was the time. I pulled out three letters along with the pills. One was to my parents, apologizing for my failure and thanking them for their care. A picture of my parents was on my dresser. I started crying again when I realized that I couldn't remember what my mother's touch felt like. I knew she smelled like vanilla and used to tell me wonderful bed time stories. But I couldn't remember her touch and knew I'd never get the chance again.
The second letter was to the Professor, thanking him for all of his work to help me.
The last letter, and by far the longest, was to Logan.
"Logan-
We made quite a pair, you and me. Me, incapable of basic human
contact. You, unable to stand basic human contact.
I know you think I'm just a kid, Logan. But I'm not. I'm a woman with a woman's needs and desires. Desires for love and physical affection. Who knew my own body would turn against me? Deny me the one thing that would make me whole?
But I'm tired, Logan. Tired of seeing what I can't have. I'm cursed, you know. Everyone else has gifts, something to treasure and feel pride for. Not me. My skin hungers for other skin - not for pleasure, but for pain. It was bad enough when all I felt was puppy love. Now, after knowing you and touching you -for a total of 58 seconds- I know 'this' isn't enough. It isn't enough for me to think about the man I want and not touch his face. It isn't enough for me to love from afar and hope one day I'll be able to bear a child that one day might hold my hand without fear. It's not enough anymore, Logan. I'm done. 17 years and 58 seconds of life but I was only really alive for those precious seconds with you.
I never wanted to save the world. I only wanted what other women want. Love, affection, companionship. Hope.
Ask yourself if you could live without feeling someone's touch. A handshake, a hug, a kiss. Ask yourself if you'd WANT to live without these things.
I don't.
In the next life, I fully intend to find you and spend the rest of my life making up for what we didn't get to do in this one.
Here's to what might have been.
Love,
-- Marie"
I left the letters on my bed and picked up my stash of pills and a
bottle of water. Sneaking through the school at night is an art. When someone says "The walls have ears" that's exactly right here. With all the different powers living under one roof, it's nearly impossible to get away with anything - from a midnight snack to finding a place to end your life. But if you want it bad enough, you can find a way.
I had a picture in my mind of how I wanted to be found. I wanted to look like I was at peace. Because really, that's all I want. Peace from my torment, peace from my life of looking but not touching.
There's a bench at the edge of the school grounds that overlooks a beautiful lake. I sat down with the pills and stared at the label. I wolfed down a handful of pills followed by the water. They tasted chalky and I nearly choked on the aftertaste. Once they settled in my stomach, I took another handful.
The sounds of the night sang to me as I curled up on the bench, waiting for oblivion. I smiled as thoughts of Logan came rushing to my mind. I imagined what it would have been like if he loved me and I wasn't a freak. The picture was so clear in my head that I started crying with happiness. He'd smile at me and I'd run into his arms. He'd twirl me around and kiss me so passionately it'd take my breath away. I'd lay my head on his bare chest and feel his heart beating - beating for me.
I sighed at the perfection of it.
I struggled to keep my eyelids open as the pills started to kick in. At last, I thought. As my eyes closed I caught a glimpse of a shadow moving to my side. Oh no, someone's seen me. They're going to ruin everything! I tried to sit up and see who was spoiling my going away party. I was woozy from the effort and swayed side to
side on the bench.The shadow has now moving directly toward me.
"Go away." My voice was barely a squeak. I shook my head and tried again. The shadow now had form. A man, my brain registered. Oh crap, Scott? Damn!
"Let me be. Go away" My words were slurred but my intent was clear as I waved an arm in the shadow's general direction. Suddenly I had no strength left. The pills had worked. I closed my eyes for what I thought was the last time.
"Sorry, babe. I can't let you do this."
What? That voice! It can't be! With every bit of strength I had left, I opened my eyes. I felt the sensation of being picked up, cradled in someone's arms. My head fell backward and I could finally see who was carrying me.
Logan.
I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment. Logan's face and
his voice would be the last things I'd remember.