Music & Cats

"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats."

- Albert Schweitzer

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There was a light tap on my door.

"Rogue? You in there?"

Another tap, this time a little louder.

"Listen, Rogue, I'm so sorry about what happened. It just… I really didn't even mean to…"

It was Kitty, and her voice made my head flood with memories of last night. I sat up, wincing at the aches in my body and rubbing the dried salt from my eyes. She continued to blabber on and on about how sorry she was and if I came out she would explain everything, but I just continued to ignore her.

My bladder began to protest as I was sitting at my window, looking out onto the pool, and I hurried into my bathroom and urinated. Feeling a little better, I came back outside to hear, luckily, that Kitty was gone.

I sighed heavily to myself, rubbing my eyes and falling back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, running through the past events.

I guess now that I looked back on it, it did seem sort of obvious that Bobby was seeing Kitty. Whenever I saw Bobby, Kitty was there. It all made sense now. I closed my eyes as I felt the tears coming again. I didn't know that that was what it felt like to have my heart broken. And I knew exactly what drove Bobby to do that… It was my fucking skin. My stupid, annoying, goddamned cursed skin.

I sighed throatily and wiped my eyes, sitting up and running my fingers through my tangled hair. I needed someplace where no one could bug me or ask me if I was alright; it was obvious I wasn't and I didn't need twenty people asking me the same thing over and over again. I didn't even feel like talking to Logan, which was slightly unusual. I hope he had gutted Bobby and strangled him with his own intestines, then spat on his bloody face as he lay dying on the ground.

Oh God, I was getting violent. Yup, I definitely needed someplace peaceful where I could figure out everything and decide what to do. I sniffed and wiped my nose, and stood up, about to leave my room when I noticed I was still wearing what I had wore from last night. I grabbed some jeans and slipped them on, not bothering to change my shirt since it was dry, and remembered that Logan still had my towel, pajama pants, and sweatshirt. I would have to get those back from him later. Zipping up the fly of my jeans and pulling some long gloves on, I opened my door a crack and poked my head out to see if anyone was there. Some younger students hurriedly ran down the stairs, leaving the coast clear, and I stepped out, in bare feet, into the hallway and tiptoed my way outside.

I paused as I closed the front door, trying to decide where I would sit. It had to be out of the way and well-covered, as well as peaceful… A light bulb clicked on and I made my way towards the Professor's favourite (and only) rose garden. It was almost like a colourful maze with benches and a spectacular view and intoxicating scent. I found a seat located deep in the hedges, surrounded by bunches of red roses.

I sat down and took a deep breath, rubbing my eyes and brushing my hair back. So. Bobby had just cheated on me with my best friend. I let some air out that I had been holding and looked down at my swinging feet. What should I do? Ignore him and shun Kitty? Sit Bobby down and have a civil talk with him? Or maybe run up to him, slap him, scream at him for being a cheating manwhore, then run off and sob to myself? I made a groaning noise and held my face in my hands, trying to hold back tears. I had no idea what to do!

Just then, I felt something soft brush up against my leg, drawing my attention to the ground. A small tabby cat looked up expectantly at me and let out a loud meowing sound. I wiped my eyes and smiled, lowering my hand to let it sniff me. It nestled its face into my hand and purred, so I reached down and began to stroke it. The cat's spine arched each time I pet it down its back, purring quite loudly. I just had to laugh quietly to myself as I scratched behind its ears and under its chin.

I drew my hand away for a moment and in that amount of time, it jumped up onto the bench and lay down beside me, meowing as if to say, "C'mon, keep petting me." I continued to stroke it gently, but after about ten minutes, I began to hear kids shouting and laughter. I didn't feel like being around anybody, so I stood up and peeked around each corner of rose bushes, safely getting out of the colourful maze and back to the school. But just as I was about to open the front door, I heard that meowing and I looked down to see the same cat brushing up against my leg again.

"Well, aren't you the friendly one," I muttered, smiling softly and scratching it's head again. It purred loudly and I glanced up at the mansion. Maybe it's hungry. I wondered, looking back down at the brown and white cat. It looked up at me with its big, brown eyes as if it was pleading 'feed me!'. I bit my lip then bent down, slowly wrapping my hands around the cat's torso. It didn't protest, so I held it close and stroked it peacefully.

"C'mon, let's go get some food, huh?" I said to it, nudging its ear. Man, I had to stop referring to the cat as 'it'. It was getting tedious. I looked at the cat for a moment before deciding on a name. Frex, a name from the book 'Wicked', popped into my head and it somehow suited the cat. "Frex." I spoke his name out loud, not really even knowing if it was a guy or a girl, and carried it into the kitchen.

I sat Frex down on the floor and opened the fridge, rummaging around for some suitable cat food. I was quite pleased with myself once I found some old canned tuna in the back of a cupboard, hoping it was still okay, and opened it with a can opener, then plopped it into a small bowl. I set the bowl down on the ground where Frex trotted over to sniff it. He began to lick and eat chunks of it, and I just laughed. He reminded me of this stray Persian cat that always hung around my house – we had named it Gibbons – and I had gotten into the habit of leaving some milk out for it everyday.

I sighed, leaning on a stool while watching the cat, and closed my eyes, the pained feeling in my chest returning. I missed my home. I missed my family. I missed my real, old bed. I had been away from them for almost two years, without any means of contact. They probably didn't care about me anymore, but I ached to see them again, just once.

I opened my eyes, finding that they had watered once again and glanced down at Frex. He looked innocently up at me, any trace of tuna left now in his stomach, and he meowed loudly. I had to chuckle at this, shaking my head, and picked him up again, wondering what to do.

I slowly wandered in and out of rooms, noticing that many of the students were gone (most likely out in the wonderful weather), yet happy that I didn't have to deal with anyone.

You're gonna have to deal with someone some time or other. A little voice in my head whispered to me. I sighed and continued walking, caressing Frex underneath his chin. I surprised myself when I found that I had roamed into the one room I had sworn I would never go into. The dreaded Piano Room. It was a small room, only big enough to hold the piano and a couch that was pressed up against the opposite wall, and a wide, ceiling-high window that let the rays of sunlight filter into the room.

I paused, staring at the large, magnificent Baby Grande Piano, admiring the beautiful ivory keys and the sheen smooth texture. I had played the piano once. When I was a normal, everyday child with not a care in the world. Memories of practicing with my mother and performing in front of family members at holidays came flashing through my mind, causing me to choke slightly. I was about to turn and just get as far away from that room as I could, when Frex leapt out of my hands and scampered into the middle of the room, leaping up and onto the black piano stool. He cocked his head at me, as if to say, "C'mon, try it. It won't bite."

My shoulders sagged and I held out my arms, not wanting to take another step into the dreadful room.

"Frex," I whistled. "C'mere, kitty." I whistled again. Frex didn't budge. His tail swung lazily from side to side. "Frex!" I cried out. But the cat did not move. He continued to stare at me. "Frex…" I whined, taking another couple of steps into the room, my hands outstretched. Just as I was about to grab him off of the stool, he dodged my hands and scampered onto the top of the piano, eyeing me mischievously.

"Damn you…" I muttered angrily, now standing right in front of the stool, looking down at the white and black keys. Frex just sat there, tail curling back and forth.

It couldn't hurt to just touch it briefly, would it? I reached over and lightly brushed my finger over Middle C. It reminded me of the very first time I had tried piano. My mother had scrounged some old music sheets from our attic and gave them to me. I learned all by myself at first, but after about a year of just practicing myself, my mother, being the proud woman she was, told me that if I wanted to continue with piano, she would have to do it herself. I had been playing ever since. Well, that is until two years ago when… when my stupid mutations manifested. I swallowed a growing lump in my throat and sat down on the bench, hunched over the keys, deciding if I should take that leap back into my past. I wondered if I could do it; if I could make that jump. But then I asked myself: Would I ever be able to come back?

I slipped off one glove and took a deep breath, placing it in the proper position on the piano keys, then pressed down. The loud, crisp ringing of the E note rang through out the room, echoing down the hallways and out the open window. I flinched at the loudness, but then pressed down the keys to make a chord. It felt so good!

I quickly stripped my other glove and set it down beside me, placing it on the correct starting stance. Smiling to myself, I tried to remember a certain Beethoven song (the name of it escaped me at that time) that I had memorized when I was thirteen. There was a Christmas concert at my school and I was specially asked to perform. Searching into my past, I rekindled the notes I once knew and let my hands slide up and down the length of the keys, letting out the years of remorse and pain that I had held inside me since I had left my family.

I was sure I had made mistakes – I mean, it had been two years – but other than that, I felt simply ecstatic. All thoughts of Bobby and Kitty left my mind as I let the beautiful music wash over me like a security blanket. As I surrounded myself with happy thoughts of my home, I didn't notice Logan walk up and lean against the Piano Room doorway.

"I didn't know you played piano." He stated simply, watching me curiously.

I let out a frantic yelp, jumping on the bench and hurriedly pulling my hands away from the piano keys, messing up the chord I was supposed to do and making it sound like someone just died. I placed my hand over my heart, feeling the rushed beat.

"Jesus, Logan! You scared me!" I cried out, giving him an incredulous stare. He, as usual, just smirked at me.

"Whose cat is that?" Logan asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Oh," I said, looking up at the tabby cat. "His name's Frex." Logan gave me an "Alrighty-then" stare, but pushed himself up off the doorframe and walked in, his arms crossed. He made his way towards me and began to sit down on the bench, when I hurriedly reached for my gloves and started to pull them on. But before I could even pull one of them halfway up my arm, his hand gripped my covered upper arm, stopping me in mid-pull.

"It's okay, don't. You play better without them, don't you?" He asked, gesturing towards the keys. I nodded but said nothing, too nervous about how close my skin was to his. "Keep playin'. You're good." Logan smiled slightly.

"I-I don't r-really remember anything else." I stuttered, keeping my eyes trained on my hands so that they wouldn't come into contact with Logan's arm.

"Then just keep playin' that one." Logan suggested.

"I… No, I shouldn't even be here, the Professor—"

"Fuck the Professor. If you wanna play, then play." Logan interrupted.

"No, Logan, I really can't…" I whispered, almost to myself.

Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes. I kept my head down as if I was just caught sticking my hand into the cookie jar. "Kid, if this is about what happened last night, then—"

"Logan, stop…" I mumbled, not wanting to go into detail about Bobby and Kitty. But it seemed as if Logan wasn't going to give up.

"No. You're not getting out of it that easily." He was facing me fully now, staring down at me with his piercing amber gaze. "You can't keep it there forever, Marie. You've got to let it out." He gave me a light squeeze on my shoulder. "C'mon, you know you can tell me anything." I still didn't look up, knowing if I did, I would cry. Although, I would most likely come out of this with tears in my eyes. There was no escaping it.

"I just didn't think that… that Bobby would do that. A-and especially with Kitty. I… I don't know Logan, it just hurts." I tried to stop them, but when I blinked, the water that was brimming my eyes fell and ran down my cheeks and onto the keys of the piano. My hands traveled to my face as I hunched over the piano, sobbing. But I wasn't just crying for what Bobby did to me… I was crying for my parents. I had never felt this homesick before, and at the moment, I actually felt like was going to be physically sick.

I swallowed a few times, trying to get the feeling to pass, and that's when I noticed that during some time that I had been weeping, Logan had drawn me close and was holding me against his chest. But somehow, it didn't feel as good as it usually did. Normally, I would be elated to be held by him; all my fears, suspicions, sadness, and hatred would disappear. But right now, I still felt empty. There was something inside of me that Logan could not fill, and it was killing me.

For the first time ever, I pulled away from the embrace, wiping at my eyes.

"You didn't… you didn't do anything to Bobby, did you?" I asked slowly looking up at him through my white streaks.

"What, like hurt him?"

"Yeah."

"No."

I sighed inwardly. Although I was thoroughly pissed at him, and earlier I would have loved if Logan had ripped him to pieces, I was slightly relieved that Logan hadn't interfered. This was something I had to deal with by myself.

"I didn't do anything 'cause I knew that you wouldn't have wanted me to." He said. I gave him a small, sullen but grateful smile. "I glared at him, though." He added quietly, smiling back.

"I bet that glare burnt a hole straight through him." I murmured jokingly. It sounded as if he let out a soft chuckle, but it could've just been some air passing quickly out his nose. We were silent for a while, just sitting, thinking silently. But then he spoke up, shifting on the bench.

"Sometimes life throws you a curveball, kid." He said, putting one hand on my shoulder. He was extremely comforting today, which was rare, and it helped a bit. It was always nice to have someone there to listen. "That's when you pull out the curved bat." He added with a sympathetic smirk.

"W-what?" I said with a mix between a chuckle and a sniff. I didn't really understand what he was getting at, but it sounded funny.

He repositioned himself on the bench so that he was sort of straddling it, and by that I meant that he was sitting with both legs on either side of the bench instead of both in front, facing the piano. "Life's a bitch. And when it comes and bites you on the ass, you gotta turn around and give it a good smack. You have to make a counter move, Marie." He paused, trying to catch my eyes. "You get what I'm tryin' to say?"

I wiped my eyes with the base of my hand and nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. I guess." He lifted his hands from my shoulders, but not before tucking one of my white streaks behind my ear.

"Just focus on something else for a while. Eventually, the feelings'll pass." He gave me a very small smile, almost a ghost of a smile, and using his finger that was covered by the cuff of his long shirt, he pushed my chin up so that we were looking at each other again. "Cheer up, kid. I hate seein' you like this." I nodded as he stood up, backing off of the piano bench and slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, then turning and moving towards the exit. Wow, he was really consoling today. All the considerate words and little shows of affection.

"Oh," He said, turning just before he left. "I've got some of your… stuff." He said, gesturing with a nod of his head out of the room, most likely towards his room.

"'Kay. I'll come pick it up after dinner." I agreed. Logan then turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and out of sight.

I bit the inside of my cheek and let some air out through my nose, glancing back at the piano. I glanced upwards, but to my surprise, I found that Frex had disappeared. I frowned and looked around to see if he was sitting anywhere else in the room, but he was actually gone.

"Frex?" I asked hoarsely, looking at the couch, then to the window, then to the door again. "Frex, where are you?"

I quickly slipped my gloves on then stood up, leaving the Piano Room and walking out into the main hallway. Seeing as that I couldn't find him, I had guessed that he had run off during my sob scene with Logan. I sighed heavily and finally came to my room, collapsing on my bed in a huff. I closed my eyes and began to think.

I was still miserable from the Bobby/Kitty incident, but playing the piano, being with Frex, and Logan's consoling helped. But I still felt that emptiness, a dull pain in my chest, that wouldn't go away. Logan's words about 'curveballs' and 'counter moves' echoed in the back of my mind, and I focused on the curveball that had just been thrown at me. Bobby had been with Kitty for some amount of time; how long, well, I was obviously unaware of that. I found them in Bobby's bed, together. Sure, they weren't completely naked, but they're 17 – almost 18 – year old teenagers, and when you find that happening, you know they're not completely innocent.

Finding myself becoming even more depressed by thinking of them together (Why didn't Bobby just tell me that he wanted to see someone else? Why did he hide it behind his back? Ugh, stupid boys.), I then tried focusing on what my counter move would be – my curved bat. I wanted it to be drastic enough so that Bobby and Kitty would get the point that I was pissed and miserable at them both, but nothing over the top. I couldn't really go any place else. I mean, it's not like I could go back home, right? And whenever I found myself in a bad mood, I would go to my friends. Sadly, my friends were the cause of my pain.

I let out a stream of breath through my mouth and thought hard and deep for a while. I needed a break from the mansion; I had been here for almost two years (coming up to three) and I felt like I needed some breathing space. School wouldn't start up for another two months or so, and summer just frustrated the hell outta me, so maybe taking a trip would be nice.

Just then, I knew what I wanted to do. I sat up swiftly, opening my eyes, and smiled softly. I knew what my curved bat was going to be.