Disclaimer: I do not own X-men or any of its characters. I also don't own the song Hang, Matchbox 20 owns that.

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back and this time with a story that has a plot!! ^_^

~*~

 She grabs her magazines
She packs her things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years

To feel this old

 "I think you'll like it here, Kim." The Professor smiled kindly at the young woman standing before him.

She frowned, "I prefer to be called Kimla, not Kim."

 "Ah yes, sorry about that," The Professor apologized, "Well, I'll just leave you to get settled in your room. Feel free to look around the mansion when you're done."

 Kimla nodded and watched the Professor disappear down the hall in his wheelchair before turning to her room, closing the door behind her self.

 "I hate it here." She mumbled to herself tossing her duffel bag and coat down on the bed.

~*~

 He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone

 Logan frowned to himself dropping the cigarette to the ground and ground it out with the heel of his boot. Sighing he walked back into the mansion and headed to Professor Xavier's office, "Whatchya want Chuck?" He asked walking inside the somewhat large office.

 "I see you finally decided to answer," Logan scowled and Xavier continued, "I know you are still getting over Rogue's… death, but I need your help."

Logan narrowed his eyes, "With what?" He grunted.

 "I would like you to keep an eye on our new recruit-"

 "Look Chuck, I'm not gonna baby-sit no kid." Logan snapped turning to leave.

  "Please Logan, you're the only one who can get through to her!"

 "Why me?" Logan raised an eyebrow as he turned back.

 Xavier sighed folding his hands in his lap, "She's suicidal, and I feel that you know a little more about that than anyone else here at the mansion."

Logan looked away his eyebrows furrowed in thought, "What's her name?"

Xavier smiled, "Kimla."

~*~

After unpacking, Kimla sighed and glanced around her new room. She spotted a dresser complete with a mirror and walked over to it.

 Her eyes were dull brown, no longer containing the specks of orange she had once thought cool about them. She ran a hand through her black hair complete with red highlights and blue bangs, and then sighed scowling at herself in the mirror. Thrusting her hand into her pocket she came across something cool and sharp, she pulled it out and stared down upon the shiny surface of the razor blade.

 Swallowing thickly, she pulled up her sleeve and laid the razor against the flesh on the under side of her arm. Shaking slightly she pressed down drawing a perfect line of crimson blood. A knock at the door startled her into dropping the razor onto the floor.

 "Come in!" She called quickly pulling down the sleeve of her shirt as she picked up the razor and shoved it back into her pocket.

The door opened with a squeak, the man standing in the doorway eyed her suspiciously then grunted folding his arms over his chest, "Charles told me ta come an' tell ya dinner's ready." 'An ta keep an eye on ya.' He added mentally noting the faint tang of blood in the air.

Kimla nodded, "I'll be right down."

 He stood there unmoving for a minute then sighed turning to exit the room, "You know where the mess hall is?" He asked over his shoulder.

 "…No," She admitted fiddling around with the sleeves of the red and black sweatshirt she wore, "Guess I'll follow you then… uh… what's your name?"

 "Logan." He grunted as the two walked down the hallway to the main stairway.

 Kimla nodded keeping her eyes glued to the floor, she grimaced feeling the razor blade in her pocket cut into her leg and grunted. Logan glanced over at her smelling the familiar tang of blood taint the air once again.

 "Alright, hand it over," He growled stopping in front of her and held his hand out.

 Kimla looked up at him startled, "W-what?"

 "Don't play dumb kid, now hand it over."

Sighing, Kimla pulled the bloodstained razor from her pocket and hesitantly placed it into Logan's waiting hand.

He scowled, "Why would ya purposely hurt yourself!?" He growled glaring at the teen before him.

 "I-I don't know… I just need too," She frowned, "But why do you care?"

 Logan grunted pocketing the razor in his coat pocket, "Come on, I'll take ya to the infirmary."

~*~

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