A/N: YES!! I GOT AN A ON MY CHEMISRTY TEST! No nc-17? Or Real-people fics? I am very disappointed in FF.NET. This is the third time that I have completely written a chapter. I thought the original(chapter) was getting way too OOC/P(I'm sure RYRO lovers would have liked it). Still RYRO though! YEAH! Sorry, I'm feeling Avril today. Anyway because of my last minute decision (today on 20 Sept 2002), this story is taking a completely different (like whoa. Lol.) route. Still RYRO though! YEAH!! That's right, Rio! Great chapter!
WARNING (to all the little kids who are the reason NC-17 is gone!): This chapter, though the longest and bestest so far, is a little emotionally unstable (LIKE GENE FORRESTER), and has masochism (ma-so-kiz-em) so don't read it if your under 13. Also, RYRO lovers will be disappointed with Rogue and a little with John for the next couple of chapters, but don't worry too much.
Friday, 20 September 2002 – Friday, 27 September 2002
IX. Rejection
Last night's events and John's thoughts were still fresh on my mind. John's lack of tentativeness when removing my glove to take my hand in his, and the moment when he had pulled me back to encase me in his arms, burring his face in my hair against my neck were both clear images in my head. And from what I had received from his thoughts, I knew exactly how he felt about me. That he obviously wanted to be more than friends, but did not want to scare me away by being too open because he was not sure about how I felt about him, or by acting like Ben. I knew from his thoughts that he hated Ben, and did not want him to come any where near this school or me. What did all this imply? That we were dating? In a relationship? I had not given him any reason to believe I felt any different. I was not so sure though. I liked him, but was I ready to jump into a relationship? Things like these needed to take more time, right? How was I supposed to tell him this? I did not want to make him feel rejected.
I stepped out of my room, closing the door behind me.
"Hey," I turned around, startled, to see John standing there. He flashed me a grin. Thoughts of last night resurfaced. I forced myself to not start staring at his beautiful face again.
"Were you waiting for me?" I asked. He nodded.
"I figured that you'd agree that we should talk," he stated. I nodded. I stood still until he motioned for me to start walking along with him. Talk. I wondered what he had to say. Maybe if I were not such a social recluse this would not be so hard. I would know what to say, and when to say it. I looked up at him as we treaded down the hall. No sign of him being nervous or uncomfortable was visible from his countenance. He looked relaxed. Of course he did, this was not really a big deal to him at all. Just talking. Right… just talking. He turned catching my eye.
"About last night," he started. "I know I might not have seemed… sober, but I was, and I don't regret anything that I did."
I turned away from him. What the hell was I to say to that? 'Sorry, but I do regret everything you did last night'? Maybe what he said was not too blunt, but it was not too complicated to figure out what he meant. And he would not have said it if he did not think I somehow shared the feelings mutually. There was no way that our friendship would not be affected now. I desperately wished now that I knew what I was doing. How to say what I wanted to say with out getting any negative effects.
"Marie?" he asked, confused by my silence. "You feel the same way, right?"
I was a little taken aback by his calling me Marie, but after all I had told him he could. Come on, Marie say something.… What was I supposed to say! I was supposed to be sure of what I was doing, was I not? I looked up, but I could not look him in the eye, and looked back ahead of me down the hall.
"I don't regret anything, but… I don't think I could be in a relationship right now," I answered. That had not been as hard as I thought it would be. It was not too harsh, nor was it confusing. It was the truth, I think. That was what I should have said, right? He stopped walking and stared at me. What was he thinking? It was not too harsh, right? It could not have been too harsh.
"Are you joking?" he asked. Joking? Why would I joke about something like this? I shook my head. Why did he think I was joking?
"But yesterday you-you acted like you…." he stopped angrily. Like salt on a cut. Acted.
"I wasn't act-" I started. I did not want him to think I was acting. So what did I want him to think, that I was using him? He interrupted me.
"You just want to be friends, right?" he asked, the anger still in his voice. I did not want him to be angry with me.
"N-Yes… I mean-" I started. Of course, I wanted to still be friends, but I did not want to… 'just be friends'. Not in that sense anyway. People were never friends after they said that. Unless they wanted to count an awkward, uncomfortable relationship as a friendship.
"You don't have to explain," he replied irately. No, please do not take it the wrong way. He looked at me for a second before he started walking again. What was happening?
"John," I called. He ignored me and continued walking. I had a feeling that he did not want me to walk with him this time. So I did not, I stayed where I was. The feeling of numbness holding me down in my spot. I had done the right thing, right? I pictured John's face as he walked away. It was the same angry look from last night. The same clenched jaw and the same narrowed eyes. I blinked away the wetness in my eyes. Part of me wanted to retreat back to my room and hide. To crawl back into the fucking hole I had crawled out of. This was not how it was supposed to end.
When I walked into Jean's class- late- there was an empty seat next to John. A little surprised, I took the seat next to him. He glanced at me, but did not say anything. Like I was a stranger or just another student sitting next to him. It felt like I had just received a hard blow to the stomach. Is this how he had felt? This could not be happening. What did this mean? Okay, I would happily take 'just being friends' over this.
"John?" I asked. He looked me in the eye. It was not the same though. He eyes were cold and hard. There was no warmth, just indifference. I could not speak for a second; I was so surprised at his apathetic expression. He seemed like a completely different person… that wanted nothing to do with me. Who could find better things to do than listen to me.
"I didn't mean to- last night- to… lead you on," I apologized pathetically. Lead him on? That was what I had done, but I had not meant to. I hope I had gotten that across to him because I really had not meant to. He had to understand where I was coming from. I was not ready to be in a relationship yet, and if I had told him that I was, I would have been lying. Please, say something, I thought desperately.
"Okay," he said and turned away from me. I do not know which hurt worse. His aloofness, or the fact that it was real. That he actually did not want anything to do with me. I looked down at my things. It was hell getting through that class, and afterwards Jean told Tess and me to stay after. There was only one reason she could want us to stay. It was time for our punishment. I wondered what she had in mind. Something most likely inhumane, pitiless, odious, malevolent, bellicose, spiteful, vindictive and cruel. Tess kissed Sam goodbye, and took a seat next to me. She turned and smiled.
"We're dating," she explained, smiling ear to ear. I nodded, and pasted on a contrived smile. They must have gotten together last night at dinner. Well at least Tess knew exactly how she felt about a relationship with Sam. That was more than what I could say about myself and about a relationship with John. Jean came to us, and stood in front of the table. She just stood there, and sort of stared at us. What was she trying to do, make us twitch? I cleared my throat.
"Hi… could you speed this up. I don't want to be late," Tess said. Jean furrowed her eyebrows, annoyed, and flipped her hair over her shoulder as if she had better things to do than talk to two girls that proved to be constant nuisances to her. What was her motivation? Why was she so arrogant? She was beautiful and she knew it, and she would flaunt it anyway and everyway she could to anyone and everyone.
"I have some work for you to do," she started. "Go to the library storage room. There are about 500 new books that need to be put on the shelves. I'll give you two weeks."
She turned her back to us, walking away to her desk. To my surprise Tess kept silent. No remonstrance came from her mouth. Was she okay? Was there something wrong with her? She just sat there quietly looking at Jean. She looked pale though. Five hundred books. Had I even read five hundred books? Inhumane, pitiless, odious, malevolent, bellicose, spiteful, vindictive and cruel.
"How many books?" Tess asked me as we walked slowly to Scott's class. Neither of us quite believing what Jean had just said. I would willingly trade the trip to the mall in for freedom from Jean and her evil wrath. More than evil. I had a feeling this was just the beginning of her vindictive punishments.
"Five hundred," I answered. Should not I be able to plea on 'I had no choice, she forced me'? Not that it would matter. Not with Jean. Scott and Jean had switched hours for some weird reason. So we had Jean's class first now. We walked into Scott's class- late- and she took her seat next to Sam. John was sitting next to Bobby. I was on my own. I sat down in the back of the class, alone. It was not so bad. Reminded me of how things were before Scott had ever broken up with Jean, and Logan and Tess had never come. The odd familiarity was welcoming. It was a good thing too, because I would have to get reacquainted with it anyway.
I stayed after class, watching everybody walk out, and paying special attention to John, who did not even glance at me as he left talking to Bobby. Jubilee and Kitty followed Tess and Sam out the room. Why did I feel like ephemeral entertainment again? That feeling that I had become the forgotten Project Hope again?
"Rogue?" Scott called. I looked up feeling more futile and pathetic than I had ever felt before. He was sitting back in his chair at his desk.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. I shook my head, standing up and picking up my things, and walking toward the door.
"See you tonight?" he asked. I stopped at the door. Tonight. Dinner. Yeah, dinner with Scott. Something to look forward to. I nodded, and walked out the classroom.
"This is going to be so boring," Tess said, as we brought the books out of the storage room to be stacked. We took ten books each at a time. Of course, this was going to be boring. We were going to be shelving five hundred books. I nodded.
"Is there something wrong, Rogue?" Tess asked. I shook my head.
"Yeah, let's get this over with," she said.
I sighed and rolled over onto my back in my bed. Tess and I had stacked away a hundred books. We expected to be done by next Wednesday. She was away with Kitty, Jubilee and Sam, any maybe Bobby and John, while I was in our room drowning myself in self-pity, and waiting for dinner to start so I could leave this pool of wretchedness for some fresh air and food. I guess I was in shock from being dropped so quickly, but I had complete faith that I would get over it. I had already used my razor, and while it had not been a complete failure, it had not finished the job, and that was not good enough. I could still feel the traces of moroseness and futility and guilt. So I gave it another round, cutting deeper this time, but not just cutting my arms, which I could not see any longer under the blood. I experimented on my legs, my stomach... anywhere my anger led me. And it helped. I could feel myself getting closer to where I wanted to be.
I rolled out of bed, and walked into the bathroom leaving my bloody razor on the bloody sheets. I reached into the shower, and turned it on, then discarded my clothes leaving my underwear on, and stepped into the shower. I really did not have any energy to do anything else except sink to my knees, but even that was too strenuous, so I sat down. I could not do cry or anything. Just think as the close to scalding water streamed over me. I stared at the drain as the diluted blood whirled around and finally down it. It felt like I was discarding more than just dried blood. Maybe this fake act I had been putting on. I did not even know if it was an act. I could not tell. Sad, but I did not know myself. I stretched out laying down on the bathtub floor feeling tired and hoping it would help me relax. It was mostly from the loss of blood, but I dozed off in the shower. A peaceful dream of void and nothing. A scream woke me from my sleep. A loud, deafening scream. What the hell was Kitty doing here, I thought. I moaned and got onto my knees and hands. My muscles felt like they would give out in any second, but they had, after all, been cut into. Thankfully I was taking a shower and not a bath, because the water had still been running while I was asleep. Though I would have woken up anyway if I were drowning. The once hot, now freezing water flowed over my body, around and in my cuts and down my scars. Most of the cuts were healing, but some, the deeper ones, were still bleeding a little.
"OH MY GOD! ROGUE! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Tess screamed. Shit, the sheets. The razor. I had obviously taken a very long shower. She banged on the bathroom door.
"What?" I asked. Stupid thing to ask, but I had lost a lot of blood, even though the sleep had restored most of my energy. I turned the shower off, and stood up using the handles as support. I stepped out of the shower slowly and grabbed a towel.
"ROGUE?! Are you okay? There's blood everywhere!" she screamed. I nodded, and then remembered she could not see me. I wish she would stop screaming.
"I'm fine," I lied. I felt like shit, but it did not matter because I was used to the feeling being that I was. I wrapped the towel around my body.
"Rogue, come out of the bathroom," Tess demanded. If I put my clothes back on, she would see the blood on them, but if I walked out like this, she would see almost every incision.
"I'm not dressed," I said, walking to the door. The water, some mixed with blood, falling off my body was absorbed by the rug in streams and drops.
"I don't care. I'll close my eyes, just come out," she pleaded. Well, at least she cared, but that would not be happening.
"Bring me some clothes, please," I mumbled, leaning against the door now for support.
"Okay... Here," I open the door and almost stuck my arm out, then remembered that if she saw my arm that would defeat the purpose of my even refusing to come out. She handed me the clothes through the opening.
"Thanks," I said, taking the clothes from her hand, and closing the door. I put the pants on the bathroom counter. My underwear was still wet, but I did not care at the moment. I slipped the shirt over my head, and then pulled the pants on. The material of each scraping and rubbing against my cuts. But pain is what being a masochist is about, I thought bitterly. I picked up my discarded clothes, and threw them into the dirty clothes hamper where they would not give Tess a heart attack, then opened the door and stepped out.
"Are you okay?" Tess yelled, taking me by the shoulders. "Where's that blood from? Are you on your period? That's a lot of blood though."
I shook her hands off, and walked over to the bed. The razor was laying on the sheets, barely visibly among the crimson. She obviously had not seen it, thankfully. I picked it up, encasing it in my hand, then slipping it in my pocket.
"Um… sure," I lied. That was a lot of blood. Too much to blame on my period, but the excuse would do. I pulled the sheets off my bed, and threw them on the floor in a pile. The blood was dry, no need to worry about the carpet. Tess stared anxiously at the pile. Had she never seen blood before?
"Are you okay?" she asked. Maybe I should ask her the same. I nodded and glanced at the clock. Time for dinner. I was tired. I needed more sleep, but I probably would not wake up in time for dinner with Scott if I went to sleep now.
"Are you going downstairs?" I asked. She nodded.
"I'll walk you," I proposed.
"Okay. I didn't want to leave you up here anyway," she replied. Afraid I would be attacked by the dried-up blood?
"I hope I don't get in trouble 'cause I think the water bill is going to be high," I said.
"Did something happen between you and John? You didn't sit by him after Jean's class. It didn't seem weird until he didn't talk to you at all after that," Tess asked as we walked down the hall. I shrugged. I really did not want to talk about what had happened between John and me at all. Maybe forget it and get over it. Because I do not think John would be forgiving me anytime soon.
"If you don't want to tell me, I'll get Jubilee to pry it out of Bobby, who'll pry it out of John," she threatened. I rolled my eyes. Was I supposed to feel intimidated? Because I was not.
Tess left me in the kitchen on her way to the dining room. I laid my head down on my folded arms on the kitchen table knowing I would fall asleep at any moment. I did not care though. Scott could wake me up when he got here. After all, I told him I would be here, and I was. When I was woken up, dinner was over, but it was not Scott who woke me up.
"Rogue. Look, you gotta go see Jean," Tess called. I lifted my head up to see her standing there. I rubbed my eyes.
"Why?" I asked. I sat back in my chair, still looking at her. She looked terrified, mortified, petrified… stupefied by me… I looked at the table. Okay not by me. She was looking at the crimson puddle on the table. It did not feel like I was bleeding… that much.
"Shit," I mumbled. "Look, it's nothing, so don't worry."
"Don't worry! You're FUCKING BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!" she screamed. I stood up and walked to the counter to get some paper towels and wetting some of them. Jubilee and Kitty walked in as I was cleaning the table.
"I said I'm fine," I told her angrily. I walked to the trashcan, and threw the napkins away.
"Are you fighting?" Kitty asked wide-eyed.
"Lemme alone," I mumbled, sitting back down. I looked at my arms. I could not do any thing about my sleeves. You could barely see the blood anyway.
"I am not going anywhere! I don't know what the hell happened in that room, but YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY HURT!" she screamed. Hurt? I was not hurt, and I was not in any pain, and if I had been it would have been what I was after anyway.
"Thanks for caring, but I'm fine," I replied, getting very annoyed and incensed. Incensed by her concern for me? What the hell was wrong with me?
"What happened in what room?" Jubilee asked curiously.
"I will drag you down to the lab! I know Jean is not a very likable person, but-!" she started. She sounded like a parent.
"Leave me alone," I interrupted, not really yelling, but getting my point across. Rude, yes, but I did not care. I wanted- needed- her to leave me alone.
"You know you're being pretty loud," Bobby said, walking in. The way he looked at me told me that he knew every thing. Of course, he was obviously the best friend of John. He sort of glared at me. One of those 'if thoughts could kill' looks. He was not alone. John walked in behind him. He looked at me, I looked at him. He did not look so angry, his expression was no longer irate, probably because I had not been around all afternoon. I turned back to Tess.
"I'll go later," I told her quietly, negotiating. Or never. She hesitated before nodding.
"Bye," I said and laid my head back down on my arms; I could maybe get another ten minutes in before Scott came. I heard someone, most likely her, start walking, and the rest of them shuffling out after her. I closed my eyes, not really sleeping, but thinking of John. Was he still angry with me? How much did he hate me?
"Rogue?" I looked up. Finally, the right person had made it to the kitchen. There was Scott. He sat down across from me at the table.
"Hi," I greeted, sitting up. I swallowed and hoped I would not start bleeding again. How many people had to think 'I hope I don't start bleeding again'? Hopefully my skin and sleeves would hold out long enough to get me through dinner.
"Scott? Can I call you Scott? Outside of class," I asked. Of course, calling him that in class would not be a good idea, nor would it launch any good rumors. He looked confused.
"Isn't that what you usually call me?" he asked. I thought about when I had ever called him Scott when he was around … 'Don't worry Jean, Scott's not using me for revenge sex.'
"Yeah," I answered. Just needed permission. I put my elbows on the table, not caring if it was rude or not, and rested my head in my hands.
"Tired?" he asked. He had no idea how tired I was. I had to shoo Tess and her friends away, and I had been steadily losing blood for who knows how long. I nodded.
"Are you okay? Did something happen?" he asked casually. Yeah, a little something. A little mistake, and my version of getting over it. Too bad, it took so much out of me. No pun intended. I stared at the table, trying to keep my eyes open.
"A little vigorous activity," I mumbled. 'Vigorous activity'?
"What?" he asked. I would have explained if I myself had understood what I meant, but I had no clue to what I was referring to. I shrugged at my incoherence.
"I was confused," I uttered. I gave up on keeping my eyes open, and closed them. Now all I had to worry about was my arms giving out below me.
"About?" he asked. What about what?
"Yes," I answered. I think I was falling asleep. Right in the middle of our conversation. If you could call his asking questions and my senseless ramblings a conversation. Maybe I should have opened my eyes. He did not say anything for couple of seconds. Had he fallen asleep to? I would check later.
"Rogue, do you need me to walk you to your room?" he asked finally, breaking the silence that I had almost fallen asleep to. My room? What was wrong with my room?
"Why would she need you to walk her to her room?" I heard Logan ask. I opened my eyes and turned around, looking at him. His eyes were narrowed slightly. I wanted to tell him that Scott had not meant it in a perverse way. Most likely he knew that and did not care.
"She needs some sleep," he stated.
"Maybe you're just boring her," Logan proposed, as he proceeded to the refrigerator. Was that necessary? Were they always going at the male preeminence thing? Neither of them owned me, though they were acting otherwise.
"You're not boring," I mumbled, facing Scott. Logan turned around. I thought at first it was because I had backed Scott, but it must have been the way I sounded.
"You been drinking?" he asked me. I shook my head. I looked at Scott. Is that what he had been thinking, also, earlier during that silence? They were both watching me now. I did not drink, and they knew that. I lowered my arms, crossing them on top of the table. I stared at Logan for a good five seconds before turning to Scott to do the same, and then Logan again. A strange thought crossed my mind.
"Are you two related?" I asked. For some reason when I had looked back and forth the images of their faces had blurred together in my head. They looked at each other- freaked out, confused, skeptical or disgusted, I could not tell. Then Logan placed his beer on the counter, and treaded over to me. Where was he going? What was he doing? What did I do wrong? He walked behind my chair, out of my sight. I looked to my left and right. Damn, he could not have just evanesced into thin air.
"Logan? Where-?" my chair was pulled back from behind me. Logan grabbed my arm before I lost my balance and fell out the chair on the floor- where I most likely would have landed on my face-, and pulled me up onto my legs.
"There you are," I stated, now looking at him. He hauled me out the kitchen towards the lounge. Where were we going? Could this wait? I had to say bye to Scott if we were not coming back. We had not even finished our conversation. Maybe tomorrow. I turned and waved to Scott as we left the kitchen. I wondered what Logan wanted.
"What did you take?" he asked, angrily, pulling me in front of him as we stood in the middle of the lounge. I looked around me and behind him. I did not see Jean. Why was she not with him?
"Where's Jean?" I asked. He must have thought I was being caustic because he narrowed his eyes. All I wanted to know was where Jean was? I stepped back, but he stepped forward.
"Take what?" I asked, changing the subject. Why was he angry? What did I take? I did not remember ever taking anything. What did he want me to take? Why did he want me to take it? Maybe it was important.
"Rogue, what did you drink? You're not on… drugs?" he asked. I did not remember drinking anything. Was I supposed to drink something? What if I was supposed to drink something, and I had forgotten, and died because I forgot? Did he say drugs? Where would I get drugs? Me? On drugs? Ha, ha…. What if I needed these drugs? Did he mean medicine? What if it was the medicine and not the drink I needed to stay alive? This was getting too complicated, and I was getting dizzy.
"I don't have any. Do you have some I could borrow?" I asked panicking. "… Are you sniffing me again?"
He had stopped listening to me, and he had that look on his face. The look that one got when one realized something. What had he realized?
"Did you cut yourself? Were you bleeding?" he asked. My eyes went wide. How the hell did he know? I was not bleeding again, was I? I did not feel my self bleeding. I could not check while he was standing right here in front of me. Had he smelt it? How much blood could he smell on me? I should have bandaged my cuts, but then I would be walking around in a body cast. Maybe I should lay off on the full coverage cutting for a while. I shook my head quickly, and then answered with an contradicting excuse.
"Paper cut," I said quickly, still shaking my head. He narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. Did he not believe me? Please do not be able to smell my fear or panic. Please, Please. Instinct is something one should be able to trust, something you're born with, so I followed mine. I fled, or tried to. Did not get very far. Logan caught my wrist even before I had even gained enough momentum to completely turn around. I had gotten maybe an inch away from him. Not only had it been a bad idea because it would launch more suspicion from him, but moving quickly in general after I had lost so much blood had not made me feel any better. I felt light headed and faint.
"Did Scott give you anything to drink?" I shook my head. Why would Scott give me something to drink? I was fully capable of getting my on drinks with out Scott or anyone's help.
"Could you let go of my arm, Logan?" I asked politely. He still had my wrist in his hand. If he held it any tighter, I would start bleeding. Again. Would this take the same turn as our meeting in the hall last week had? I did not have the patience, attention span or energy for another meeting like that. He ignored my plea, and kept his grip on my wrist.
"I'm just really tired," I said. No way I could be so tired without a cause, but he could not smell lies, could he? Come on Logan, respond….
"I need to go tell Scott I need him to walk me to my room," I proclaimed, when he did not move or let me go. I started to turn as if I were going back to the kitchen.
"I'll take you," he said abruptly. Oh so smooth. I knew mentioning Scott would take the attention off me, and it did. He hauled me along after him through the lounge and into the game room.
"Can't we take the other way? Through the kitchen," I asked. He did not answer, instead he just kept pulling me along through the students. So many students. I stared at his back to keep from making any unnecessary eye contact with some certain people I did not want to see. But ignorance would tell you that you do not need to see someone for him or her to see you.
"Rogue," Tess called. She ran to catch up with Logan and me. What did she want? I was not going to argue with her again about some blood. I did not have the energy or attention span for that either. Nor would I ever.
"Logan, wait," she said. He stopped walking and turned around to look at Tess, who had caught up with us now.
"She in trouble?" Tess asked inquisitively. He gave a curt shake of his head.
"She needs help getting to her room," he said. I thought it sounded a bit caustic. Why was he angry? Maybe it was Scott. No matter how many times I told him he would never believe that Scott and I were only friends…. Oh my goodness… everything slowly dawned on me. I think understood why he was angry. He had even asked about it. 'Did Scott give you anything to drink?'
"I need to talk to her really quickly," she said. He looked hesitant, but let go of my wrist.
"Alone. You know like in private," Tess said, when he stayed in his spot standing next to us. He raised an eyebrow.
"Go wait by the entrance. I'll send her over there when I'm done," Tess said. She did not wait for him to move, but pulled me along farther from him. I did not need to be sent.
"Tess, Logan thinks Scott-" I said quickly.
"Rogue, I know about John-," she started to say at the same exact moment. We both stopped and did not say anything for a moment. I decided to go first.
"He thinks that Scott drugged me cause he thinks I'm acting weird or something. When he walked in Scott asked me if I wanted to go to my room, cause he thought I needed help getting to my room, but Logan did not know that, and now he thinks Scott is using me for revenge sex," I said quickly, making a record of about five seconds, "I think."
"Maybe he did because you sure are acting drugged," she replied. How could she say that about Scott? How could anyone? How could that even be a thought to anyone or her? He would never do that? He would never do something so pathetic. I could not believe her. After all her all her nonsense about my being lucky for having Scott, she went and accused him of doing something so abysmal. I could have punched her, or slapped her.
But instead I blacked out.
Not for long though. Maybe it was the blow to my head from it slamming against the floor or maybe it was Tess's strident, piercing scream that opened my eyes. I tried to get up quickly, but that caused too much pain, and I fell back onto my back. I put my hands on my head, and tried again slower this time. A headache would not help me in my condition. The whole time Tess was panicking. I would not want her around in an emergency. She was causing such a fucking scene. Just what I did not need, more attention drawn to me when I could start bleeding again at any time. I rose onto my knees leisurely, and tried to stand up.
"Logan!" she screamed. I grabbed the side of my throbbing head, covering my ears desperately, and dropped back to my knees.
"Stop screaming," I yelled, which only caused me more pain from hearing my own loud command. It did not take Logan that long to get here. The crowd parted for him as always. He hastily pulled me to my feet. I could have screamed at him if I had not been so busy suffering from the pain of the motion. Did you yank someone to their feet after they had undergone a spinal injury or a broken neck?! Was I dying? Was this what dying felt like? I kept my arms clamped on the side of my head wanting the pain to go away.
"Marie," he called, holding onto my arms near my shoulders. I could not answer. They could not find out. I could not let them. Not now, not ever. They would make me stop. All of them. They would say they knew what was good for me. Shit, they did not know anything about me! They would not understand that I was not trying to commit suicide. That it helped me more than they ever could. They would not understand. They would reject me even worse then they did now. These freaks would treat me like a freak. They would pity me. I did not want their FUCKING PITY! I wanted to be left alone. Could not I do something with out worrying about what other people felt about it! They did not know shit. I did not want their rejection. Their pity. They would try to take what was mine away from me. I fought hard against the tears, using my eyelids as bulwarks.
"Marie," Logan called again, louder this time. I could feel the tears escaping. Why could I not stop them?! Why were they yelling so loudly? Tess called my name. Someone asked if I was okay. John, I think. I could not think over the pain. I clench the side of my head harder. I did not want to hear their screams.
"Please, stop," I whispered inaudibly. Logan heard. He has great hearing, and he heard me. He told them to stop yelling, and they listened.
"I promise he didn't do anything. I'm just tired," I told Logan. He let out a low growl. Did not he believe me? He had to believe me. Why would I lie to him?
"I'm not trying to cover for Scott. He didn't do anything. I would have known. I can get my own drinks. I haven't eaten or drank anything anyway. Logan, I'm not lying," I repeated. The pain was subsiding but my head still hurt. I could not let go of my ears, or open my eyes, even as the tears spilled out silently. The best I could do was not sob.
"I promise. I didn't take anything. I didn't drink anything. I'm not on drugs or medicine," I mumbled quietly. He told everyone to go back to what they were doing.
"Rogue," Tess called quietly. "What's going on?"
"I'm just tired. I haven't eaten anything all day," I answered. Saved by the truth. I truly had not eaten much today. I had skipped breakfast after talking to John, had not gotten around to lunch, and could not make it through dinner. It was a decent excuse, and they had to believe it because it was true. Logan let go of my arms, but he did not move. I opened my eyes. He looked angry. I did not know with whom. Was he angry with me or Scott or no one in general? Why did not he believe me? What was he thinking? I lowered my hands from my head, and wiped the tears away.
"Sorry," I apologized. I realized that he had accepted my excuse, and there was nothing to cry about. I remembered my razor in my pocket. They were not taking anything away. I took the chance to walk away, and neither of them tried to stop me. I do not think either of them had seen me in such a phase, or anyone here in that case. I felt for my razor as I walked through the crowd. They parted for me, and that was fine, except they could not keep their probing eyes off me. I saw John. He looked confused and concerned. I turned away and tried to ignore everyone, but it was impossible. How could I ignore a whole room full of people. I did not need this. I did not want this. I did not need nor want their fucking pity or rejection.
IV. Rejection