Author's Note:
Hello! This is the first attempt I've made in a long time to write a full length fic, and it's been an even longer time since I put one up. ignores both Friend Behind the Mask and ? in embarrassment Phew! The nervousness as set it! Is it decent? Is it worthy of the wonderful readers of Well, I guess we'll see, won't we? One statement I have to make is, please, read the first few chapters before writing this fic off. Believe me, the story is definitely not going to be what you expect! Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read it! I heart you guys! And constructive criticism is completely welcome; what do you think the review section is for? Okay, well... Happy birthday!
Disclaimer: nn Unfortunately, X-Men is not mine to cherish... I can only love it from afar and dream of night with it and... Oh, X-Men!
Prologue
The house lay on the outskirts of Bayville, an old Victorian mansion that, in its prime, had belonged to the Wilcox family, who had moved to Bayville from farther South. It was decrepit, looking like a real haunted house. Standing two stories plus an attic, surrounded by trees, it was the only house on the end of Wilcox Drive. The siding was old and faded, and one side of the roof was sagging in upon itself, giving the house a warped appearance. Few of the windows were left intact, smashed in from several years of dares, parties and promiscuous teenagers, and were accented by spiders' webs and dust. The whole house was like a monster rising from the trees, alert and watching, the stains from water run-off beneath the windows looking like blood smears from it's empty eyesockets.
The house had been left to wait, lonely and broken, on this unattended lot for half a century, watching people go in and out, but never stay longer than a night's length, always sneaking in under the shelter of the dark and leaving the same way. Now, though, things were different. This one had already stayed for nearly two days, crouched silent in the attic, and didn't appear to be leaving any time in the near future. It had arrived in the night, yes, wounded and exhausted, but now it remained, hidden in the shadows within the attic, occasionally leaning on the large antique chest there and moving to stare hungrily out of the house's empty eye.
The creature stirred now from its slumber, vaguely aware of the afternoon sunlight that poured in around him. He sat up slowly, wincing as too much pressure was applied to his injured leg, and shook himself lightly. Breathing deeply, he stood and walked to the window, climbing onto the chest and staring past the dusty glass. The sun would soon lose its hold on the sky, sliding beneath the trees as the moon took its place, smiling and silver. Clouds were approaching from the North, a steel grey that carried the promise of heavy rain, perhaps even a thunder storm.
He couldn't remember how long he had been there, just that it felt like an eternity. His body ached, and saliva filled his mouth as a pang of hunger struck his body. He slid from the box, laying on the cool, warped wood and staring at the wall. It had been so long, it felt as though he had never eaten at all. What could satisfy it? He had tried everything, yet he remained famished. His loneliness, and the pain from his hunger and from the wounds he had sustained in reaching this place were practically unbearable. Whimpering, he curled into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block out the world.
Sleep, however, refused to come. What did come were images, feelings, all his fear and sorrow and loneliness, building up in his chest. The look in his mother's eyes as he was torn away from her, his family, dragged away, and so much pain. Screaming pain coursing through his body, and he didn't understand. He couldn't fathom any of this, horrified and confused. Why had they hurt him? Why did they take his family away? What was so important about him that they needed to do those things to him?
As all the emotions hit him again, he threw back his head and let out a long howl of agony, which reverbereated through the house. If anyone had been nearby, they may have heard. But no one was nearby, and he was left lying on a wood floor, all alone but for the spiders and this huge, grinning house.