my second fanfic
i don't own anything
You know those things you do. The things you do without realizing. Habits, you think there called. You have the most irritating in your opinion. You always look at you hair and twirl it. Its dark brown, after your mother. At the thought of her you smile, she knew you inside out, and then she was taken away from you. You frown at that reflection, for you try not to remember she is gone. You then take the white stripes in your hair and ponder what would have happened had Logan not pulled you out of Magneto's machine.
You would have died, that you know.
But your hair would have been completely white.
You chuckle at the morbid thought. A part of you wanted death. Your curse is making your life worse than anything, even the abuse and neglect. All that is thanks to your stepfather, but never your mother, and your mother's hair would never have turned white. She was an angel, angels never get old.
Your brother dyed his hair. It had been a dark brown almost black color. It reminded him of his father too much. Our father you suppose he's called. However you do not remember him, for he was taken from you when you were only a few months old.
Your sister had your grandmother's hair, it was a golden color. You used to braid it when you were younger, before everything. Before your stepfather came and killed you mama, before you ran away from countless foster homes, before your beautiful sister experienced her schizophrenia. You remember finding her on the floor of the basement you had been living in. crimson blood throughout her strikingly honey-golden hair.
You then wonder, if you had been given a chance to touch, and recreate, and have your own child; would they have had you family's hair? Or perhaps whoever would have been the father's hair.
You again look at your piece of white hair, listening to the hushed whispers of the voices of those in you head.
A loud blast, and your white streak is drenched in red.