One by one each of her victims fell. Each one of them were subject to the swift pain that only she could bring on. And as she went after each one of them, hunting them, quickly adding numbers to the ever growing list, the girl was as good as dead. She knew nothing about the events that were transpiring before her. Given a task she followed it without question or contemplation. Merely a puppet, the girl listened to the commands of one Mystique.

Another man was there but never once did she hear his words. Rogue was abiding by the words of the woman she knew as her adopted mother. That same woman who raised her, the one that loved her, the same woman who was free of the sins that she would later commit in life. There wasn't a second that the illusion failed. She was a slave to the woman she once loved- not the monster that Mystique would become.

She would never remember the miles she traveled, the cold, or even the panic she started after stealing everyone's power and heading off with Mystique and Mesmero to Apocalypse's lair. Rogue just saw an illusion where she was able to touch the skin of her mother, hug people without the fear of accidental skin contact, finally have one kiss.

The moment she entered the tomb the illusion slowly began to fade away. Once near the Apocalypse, her frail hand swung over his final resting place when she finally felt the bite of Satan. Illusions gone, the Apocalypse was now draining her of all the powers she had stolen. And at that moment she felt feared that death would come and snatch her away. Screaming, crying Rogue was slowly dying it seemed. But, even the strain that the Apocalypse caused on her body was merely a minor scratch compared to the realization of the now destroyed illusion. For the first time she was happy, but just like everything else in her life that moment too passed.

And now she laid on the hospital bed in the med bay. Conscious, alive and filled with shame. Rogue should have known that the illusion wasn't real. She should have sensed something was wrong. Rogue should have known she was never meant to be happy. Only it felt so good.

"Ah'm sorry," a soft drawl let out. "It's all my fault. Ah shoulda known," she cried.

Tears still falling she curled up in a tight ball ignoring the sounds of the beeps and ticks of the humming machines. Drowning in sorrow the petite southern girl furiously attempted to reconcile what she had done. But no matter what explanation she came up with her conscience told her better. She was responsible for the release of the Apocalypse. Her powers were the key to his release. Rogue did this. And still the girl whimpered, hoping someone out there would take pity on the poor distraught child.

Rogue closed her eyes one more time, in the vain hope that maybe this time would be the last and she could finally rest.