Warning: This one is dark. I own nothin'.
Silent Night
By Abaiisiia
You smile wistfully as you look to the sky, the gag in your mouth preventing you from sighing. It is so beautiful. The dark, almost morose clouds that lay scattered across the view are slightly alight form the light of the moon, stars stretching from both ends of the sky. You swallow, awed by the beauty that lay before you, and grimace as the copper from the blood sets in, ruining the mood.
Where are you again?
A cool breeze shoots up, mixing your brown and white hair together. You almost like the effect, it makes it look as if you were normal, not just a mutant freak.
You can hear the faint wailing of cars in the distance, though it's almost dark enough for the sun to begin rising. You like the dark. It shadows everything, you can blend into it with your clothing, you can sink into the conformity of the night without stirring a ripple. It makes you calm, it makes you whole. But the dark leads to the questions that you can't answer, the things that you do not want to think about.
Like this daddy? Can I stop now?
A wheezing cough escapes your ruby lips. It is so nice and quiet now, the voices have stopped yelling, and for the first time in a long while, there is silence in your head.
It hurts… Please can I stop?
You are distantly aware of the forest behind you, the trees looming ominously over you. The grass is wet and you begin to shiver in the humid air. It will rain soon. You try to move your hands. They are tied together behind your back; you can feel the blood and the dew dripping down your palms.
It reminds you of another time, a time before the colour black and the hurt and the lies. Ah, God, you think, the hurt is so bad now. You push it away, just like the Professor and Mystique taught you. Just breathe and push it away. But it is not leaving you. This is different, it fills you to the brim, it is a dull and aching need to feel something, anything, before you leave. It had consumed you as you walked home, it deadened your senses and kept you from being able to tell that an attack was coming. You laugh wryly. He had walked away after he hurt you.
Leaving you to your past.
And the horror.
Please… Get off of me Daddy…
Don't hurt Mommy!
And suddenly, you are in Mississippi, watching as your father shoots your mother...
...and turns on you, venom in his eyes.
You are six years old, too young to understand what transpired; all you know is that Mommy isn't moving and now Daddy is on top of you.
And he is so heavy.
And you are so weak.
And he hurts you bad.
Deep, deep down inside.
And you are dirty.
'Y'all are a bad little girl, Anna,' He slurs, his voice made rough with alcohol, 'But I's can make y' better.'
You pound against him with your fists, trying to make the pain stop, when he hits you, hard, in the face. You are aware of the night sky out the window; the moon is so pretty, why isn't she moving?
You can hear his breath in your ears, loud and ragged, with every move he makes. You try to cry out but he covers your mouth with his callused hand. You bite down hard. He hits you again.
And all is still.
You shudder as you remember, another cry filling you. But a different kind of hand is covering your mouth now, fear is making it hard to breathe. You lie on the ground and whimper, just like he would have wanted you to. You fitfully draw yourself closer into the fetal form, trying to gain comfort from the heat of your body. You work the gag out of your mouth and spit it out on the ground, coughing as air begins to flow into your mouth.
Now you can cry.
But no tears escape your eyes. They are dead; but no one knows it yet. They died a long time ago. You had tried to hide it with the heavy makeup, but it only had masked the problem that was staring so many right in the face.
But he knew.
And he did nothing about it.
You smile softly as you think of the boy, his image growing in your mind. He is so beautiful. You hope he is out right now, looking for you and worrying. It has been so long since someone has cared.
But he can't get too close, a voice in your empty head warns. If he gets close, he might be able to see your secret. He will leave you, just like the others. Keep him at a distance.
The snapping of a twig takes you away from the inner torment as terror surges through you. He might be back to take another shot at you, you think desperately. You can't handle it. If they touch me again, I'll die. No other noise follows, but it makes you remember why you are here.
But now you are alone with only your thoughts, and they are slow to tear you apart. You shift your weight again, so the leg that is falling asleep will continue to have circulation. A flash of the other boy on top of you, moaning and panting as you struggle against him, him finishing and spitting on you as he pulls his pants up and leaves you there, in the middle of the woods, in the dark.
It begins to rain as the tears finally cascade down your cheeks, mixing mascara and black eyeliner. "Oh, God," you mumble, "please take me away."
Your pleas are ignored.
God has left you.
And the memories from the earlier betrayal are let loose.
"Scott," You call out, your pace quickening as you sought him out in the crowded halls. "Could you give me ride back to the house?"
Disappointment trickles through you when he shakes his head, "Sorry, Jean and I are going out to a movie." He flashes you a grin and his sunglasses glimmer in the florescent light. You nod and begin to walk away, and he grabs your hand. You blush a shade of red and jerk your hand away.
"That's okay. Remy'll give me a ride home if I ask him." You smile slightly at him.
He scowls. "You're still seeing the loser?"
A twinge of anger rises in you. "He's not a loser, Scott. He is there for me when y'all aren't."
He turns away. "Forget it. Go have fun with the rat."
He walks away, and you are too angry to try to find Remy amongst the many hordes of his fan club. You begin to walk home, the silence only interrupted by your angry sighs. The roaring of a car behind you makes you turn. It is Scott, and he slows down on the abandoned road. The strong stench of alcohol hits you as he rolls down the window.
"Get in."
"No! You are so drunk! What happened to Jean?"
He grimaces at the mentioning of the name. "She left me… For Duncan! Stupid cunt…" he hisses, his speech slurred. "Get in the car. I'll give y' a ride."
"No!"
He curses and hits the dashboard. As he is reaching back and unbuckling the seat belt, warning bells go off in your head, but you ignore it. It is Scott. He won't do anything to you.
As soon as he's out, he reaches over and grasps your hand tightly in his. "Come on, Rogue."
You yank it out of his reach. "Get away from me."
Anger flares up behind his ruby glasses. He hits you, hard, in the face. You fall back into a tree, and suddenly he is atop you, his hands reaching into your clothing. His breath is heavy in your ears just like his was oh so long ago. "I've seen the way you look at me, Rogue. And I have to say, I've felt the same. But then the Cajun came along. You don't even look at me anymore. I cant stop thinkin' about what y' look like underneath the clothes, though."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small metal device. A button clicks, it snaps out into the shape of a collar. Horror and realizations dawns upon you.
A New Genosha Slave collar.
You struggle harder, clawing at his face. He narrowly misses your hand, pins it down and clicks the collar into place.
And suddenly, you are very, very sleepy
And you can't struggle as he hurts you, just like your father did.
And he ties you up and hits you, over and over again.
And leaves you alone in the ever-growing dark.
Another rustling noise stops the flash of reminiscions. It is in the shape of a person, and your eyes blur with tears. They found you. "Please… I'm over here…!" you croak, your voice hoarse with the overload of emotions.
The figure takes a step closer… "Stripes?"
You pass out as over picks you up gingerly, concern evident in his eyes.
""
"Get off of me!" You scream, sitting up. No one is on top of you; you are safe within the confines of the white room, away from the dream. You open your eyes and turn your head. The boy is sleeping in a corner, his brown hair tussled and big black bags under his eyes.
You are fine.
You settle back into the bed, a mind-blowing headache beginning to grow behind your temples. There is a dull ache between your legs, and your arm is in a cast. Other than that, everything is okay. For a moment, you wonder who you are. Nothing is okay.
You have been raped.
Twice, by people you trust.
""
You tell your story to the boy. He screams in anger when you tell of the first time, he hits the wall by the second. Then he breaks down in tears, crying for you and your lost innocence. You are awed by his tears.
Bit by bit, you tell the others. They cry too. The Wolverine goes off in search of Scott. He had disappeared the night he hurt you, and he promises you that he'll gut him for what he did to you, his 'daughter'. It is nice to be cared for. It is nice to be loved.
But in the back of your mind, you will never be the same. The Professor looks inside your head during one the many therapy sessions and is disturbed by what he sees. The voices are gone, but their astral selves are still there, standing as if their consciousness was taken away suddenly.
"It's how I felt after the first time," you whisper to him, drawing your knees to your chest. You can hear Remy outside the door, listening intently, but if he felt the need, he would take you out and away in a instant.
You hope the love and the caring will last forever.
You love the boy. You know he loves you as well.
No one will ever touch you like that again.
But why does it still hurt?
Why do the nightmares still come, day after day?
Why do you wake up screaming?
You doubt that you are still alive. You think that you died long ago, and the only thing showing is a shallow copy of the girl you once were.
The session ends. Remy comes and takes you out, he holds you close and expects you to cry on his shoulder, like you did every time before now. But you push him away.
"I need some time alone, Rem," you whisper, and he reluctantly leaves you alone with your feelings, the faintest glimmering of pain in his eyes. You know it hurts him to see you like this, but you stopped caring long ago. You can't make yourself better while constantly leaning on others for support.
Your father broke you.
And Scott shattered whatever was left.
But you still have yourself.
You crawl out your window and onto the roof, where the moon is shining yet again.
As the wind picks up, you begin to laugh.
You will get over it.
You will not let it break you.
You will breathe.
And you will cry.
And you will hurt again.
But not like that.
Never like that again.
You will live.
End.
A/N. Finished in under a day, Baby! Whoo hoo!