A/N: A thousand thanks to Echo Dancer who was my first reviewer of Pied Piper. I hope this chapter is as good as you hoped. And others, please don't hesitate to review!
The young girl watched as she dabbed an alchohol-soaked cotton ball to her newest cut. She was transfixed as red-tainted foam bubbled and disinfected her wound. When her mother found the trail of blood she had left on her hardwood she was going to be in trouble. Half her body was numb and she had had to drag herself up the stairs. It had taken hours for her father to stop this time, and she sported some major gashes on her arms and legs that she needed to clean and dress before she passed out from blood loss.
Her father seemed to believe that beating her was the only way to get rid of the disease in her. "Bleeding out the bad blood" it seemed. She had no reason to believe the opposite; it seemed ever since it started she had found the urge to sing less and less. She hardly went out of the house except when she had to go to the shed. She didn't eat as much as she used to when she was nine, and her father only gave her scraps anyway. She had begun to feel a huge sense of emptyness growing over time, and had wondered if that was what it felt like to be normal. Scars were tattooed into her skin; criss crossed tread marks all over her arms and face, and the bruises in various forms of fingers and hand prints circling her neck and arms and ankles were constant even though they moved places.
Her parents had begun to act different ever since it began. Her father now showed just how much he hated her, snarling at her and verbally beating her down. No matter how many times she told herself the opposite, it still hurt. It felt like a huge spike was being hammered into her chest every time he spoke. It felt worse than the physical wounds because the gashes and bruises would heal with time. It felt like the inner wounds would never heal. Perhaps her father knew that.
Her mother seemed to avoid her like the plague. She never looked at her, and never came out from her room when her father beat her. She felt angry at first, but she forgave her mother. She was a freak, no matter whose blood she belonged to. She would be frightened if she were her mother too. She was glad that her mother hid from her, no matter how many times it bruised her heart. She didn't participate in the beatings. That was a good sign. She wouldn't believe that her mother loved her though, not any more. Her mother hardly hugged her before, so she believed that her mother had never loved her.
The girl finished cleaning the cuts on her arms and legs and slowly dressed them. Just as she was putting her equipment away, she heard a knock on her door. It was light, almost shy. She felt herself staring at the wood oddly. Her father never knocked, and there was no one else in the house. It must be her mother. Trying not to be rude, she quickly cleared her throat and called for her to come in. Her mother did, and her eyes were trained on the ground or anywhere else besides her face. She had in her hand a small book that looked to be made of hide.
It didn't look like her mother was angry at her or anything. In fact she looked rather scared. Feeling a subtle rush of emotion, she scooted over on the bed and patted beside her. Her mother seemed to let out a breath and shut the door behind her, then gently took a seat on the bed. Her daughter faced her and stared up at her expectantly, not wanting to push her mother or scare her away. It seemed even now her mother had chosen to sit as far away as possible. She merely stared at her lap where her hands were fiddling with the gold-lined book.
The girl was just starting to wonder if she should speak first when her mother jerked the book out to her. She stared for a moment, as if wondering if it would bite, and gently took the book in her hands. She observed it. The leather hide felt rough against her hands, but it seemed worn away at the edges were the book opened. When she ran her fingers over the pages, opening it cautiously, the pages were almost see through because they were so thin. The words were not worn away however, and near the back of the book she saw that some words switched from red to black and back again. It almost seemed as if the book held a power that she couldn't place. When she looked at the cover, The Holy Bible was etched in the brown hide. She looked at her mother curiously.
"It-It's the Bible," she answered akwardly. She coughed and tried to gether her courage. The girl gave her a little respect and stared at the book instead, running her pale fingers over it. "It tells you everything about God..." She seemed to trail off and her daughter looked at her. She looked to be fighting something and the girl resisted every nerve that wanted to scoot over and give her strength. She thought of a mantra to repeat in her head until her mother came to her senses. She repeated something her father had said once. I could be contagious. I could be contagious. I could be contagious...
Her mother seemed to come to in a few minutes. She looked determinedly at her daughter, as if she'd made some kind of marvelous decision. "This is the Bible," she repeated, this time with confedence. "It was passed to humans by God to tell them of His grace..." Her daughter sat there in wonder as her mother explained the books, the New and Old Testaments, the beginning of the world and humans. Her mother seemed exausted by the time she was finished explaining it all and the girl was almost suprised to see just how old her beautiful mother looked. Her daughter studied her face, looking at all the wrinkles she had never seen before then. She decided it only made her mother more beautiful.
The girl looked down when she realised that she had been staring at her. Even as she looked down in shame, she felt a smile twitch at her lips. For the first time in months, even a year, she felt whole. She felt like singing. She felt her face flush at the thought, and it felt like her blood was on fire and her skin felt like ice. She stared down at the book in wonderment, wondering what she was feeling. She swallowed thickly as the feeling faded away and she looked back up at her mother. She was also looking down, looking increadibly serene. As daughter watched mother, she forgave her for everything she had or hadn't done. She slowly reached over and slid her hand under her mothers, gripping it with finality. She smiled at her mother when she looked at her, obviously startled. Her mother startled her when she brought her hand up and kissed it, holding it in her aging hand.
She watched as her mother stood and made her way to the door. She open and shut the door without a sound, and the girl was left alone with her new thoughts. She lay down on her stiff matress, careful of her injuries, and opened the book to the first page of the first book. Genesis...
The girl groaned when she woke the next morning. Her bones cracked and her muscles were stiff as she stretched, and her eyes seemed caked over. But her spirit jumped as she opened her eyes finally to see the Bible given to her by her mother. She had read well into the night before sleep claimed her, and had read until Genesis 7. She had felt sick when she read of Cain and Abel and the others who killed, but felt awed at all the children they all had and the flood. She had had to stop reading before her head exploded, and decided before that she would read only a little at a time.
She saw the sun peeking over the horizon and quickly brushed her teeth and hair and dressed in the yellow shirt and red dress that she had yet to grow out of. She opened and slid through the door and headed down the stairs, readying herself for the morning. But when she looked up and to the living room, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing there were two men, looking official. One stood tall with red glasses, facing directly at her father who looked to be furious. The other stranger was sitting in a chair with wheels. He looked guilty to her, but when he turned to her he smiled. She nearly jumped when he did, and turned to run upstairs, but her fathers shout stopped her.
"Filth!" He cried at her, storming over. The man with glasses took a step forward, but the other man stopped him. She barely saw before her vision was filled with her father and his hate. She felt her body cower and she cried out when her burried his thick hands into her hair, dragging her back down the stairs. Fire erupted in her scalp and she had to remind herself that she had felt worse before the tears boiled over her cheeks. Her eyes clenched shut so she couldn't see where they stopped, but she had a feeling she was in front of the two men. Her knees were weak, and she felt hairs being pulled as she was held up by her hair. She had to hold her beath and she barely heard her father speaking. "Look at them! Tell them that I'm curin' you." He growled. He waited for a moment before shaking her, making her cry out. "I said look at 'em!" She gasped and cracked one of her eyes open. Just seeing the looks they were giving her made her want to cry. She opened her mouth to say something but she couldn't. She choked down a sob. No matter how hard she tried to be strong, her father always made her cry. Help me, please..
The older man in the wheelchair looked at her father. "I have to ask you to put your daughter down." He had an accent that was very different than her father and mother's. He was going to say something else but her father cut him off.
"You'll not tell me what I ought or not ought to do with my scum," he cut him off. She'd never seen him so furious with someone other than her, and it made her more scared than when he was mad at her. Please don't hurt them.
The old man continued as if he'd never been interupted. "We are going to take her someplace safe-" He ignored her father again as he started to rant more, "-and we will make sure she is well fed and taken care of and learns to control her unique abilities." Her heart jumped as he spoke and she stared at him in disbelief, before she clenched her eyes again as her father shook her.
"I'm takin care of that problem already!" He nearly shouted, shaking her at them. His anger making his drawl even more obvious. "She ain't sang a note since I've beaten her a year ago, and she's doin everythin I say!" The glasses man had a dark, angry look as her father said this. The old man's lips thinned out and he looked into her squinted eyes. She tried to send him a message through her eyes. I don't want him to hurt you, just go away, please.. What she hadn't expected was to hear an unfamiliar voice back.
We are going to take you away from here, he said. At that moment she nearly started sobbing. She was filled with a power that made her start struggling despite the pain in her head. She was filled with hope that she could get away from her father and his beatings. She cried out when her father suddenly threw her to the floor. She heard him speak from above her.
"Fine! Have the filth! I don' care!" He cried out in fury. "But not without a final goodbye present." She barely heard the sadistic pleasure in his voice before she felt a steel-toed boot in her gut, and then when she curled up she got hit again in her ribs. She cried out in pain, wrapping her arms around her and curling into a ball. Before her father could get in another hit, the man with the red glasses had hit him in the jaw with such force that he flew back. She heard the sickening thud as her fathers head hit the wall and she heard him slide down. She had the feeling he would not be getting up for a while.
She heard the man in the wheelchair tell the man with glasses to pick her up and carry her out to the car, but as she was craddled in his arm she remembered. "Wait, she gasped, looking over the mans shoulder. "My Bible! I forgot my Bible, please.." Her voice trailed off as she felt her face flush with shame. These men were doing so much for her, and here she was asking them to do more. "If it isn't too much, I mean.." She heard soft clicking and looked up. She watched unbelievingly as her mother rushed down the stairs with her Bible in her hands. She came and put the holy book in her lap, leaning over to kiss her forehead. The girl flushed and felt tears stream down her cheeks.
"Be a good girl for me, you hear?" Her mother seemed choked up as well and the girl forced herself to nod. She couldn't make her self to say anything, she felt like all the air was being choked out of her lungs. Her mother nodded at her and looked at the two men sternly, despite that one of them was older than her. "Take care of my daughter, or there'll be Hell to pay. Got it?" The man in the wheelchair chuckled, though the man that was holding her seemed to pale.
"I promise your daughter will be in safe hands." The mother nodded and made a shooing motion.
"Off you go then. I'll take care of my husband when he wakes." The men nodded and turned towards the door. The girl found her strength and looked over the mans shoulder, waving slightly to her mother.
"'Bye mama," she called softly. "I'll see you later." Her mother nodded and shut the door behind them. As she was being carried she wrapped her arms around the mans neck, feeling like a child and very scared. She stared behind them, as if waiting for her father to come storming out and take her away again and give her the worst beating so far, but he never did. She let herself be pried from the man's neck and placed into a car, waiting after her door shut for the man to help the man in the wheelchair to get in on the passenger's side, and then for the man with the glasses to get in behind the steering wheel. He turned on the car and started driving, but she felt very nervous.
She was beginning to move her Bible in her hands nevously when the older man spoke. "My name is Charles Xavier," he started, and his sudden voice made her jump. She looked at him with wide, eerie eyes. If there was any doubt she was a mutant, it was wiped away when he saw those eyes. Bright yellow irises fading into a saturated red. "I have an institute, a school, for people like us and Scott here." He motioned to the man driving and she saw him smile at her from the rearview mirror. She felt herself smile timidly back and looked down again when she felt her face flush. "Now, now, there's nothing to be ashamed of." She looked back at him, wondering how he could read her so well she didn't even need to talk. Not that she wanted to, it felt as if a swarm of crows had come and stolen her voice. "I am gifted, just like you. I am a telepath, I can read other peoples thoughts." She nodded, not really knowing what a tellypatch was but figuring she'd learn when she got to this school she was going to. "What is your name, dear?"
Now that had her staring at him oddly. She hadn't heard her name since she had first sang outside and had animals come rushing to her like old friends. It had been such a long time, but she figured since neither man knew she could tell them her name. "My name.." She coughed as her voice cracked. Xavier turned to get a bottle of water and gave it to her. They waited as the girl took a drink, relishing the cold water. She gave it back with a smile and Xavier motioned for her to go on. "My name is Piper," she said finally. "Piper Williams."
