RogueNya - Well they do say 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going'. But now I've got to find some way to redeem him.
NyahLi1 - Reading the chapter back is making me feel depressed! A Logan hug, I'll have to fit one in the story now just for you, LOL
I love the St Pepper album, first one I bought a few years back because I like the Lucy track. That's the forth iPod I've gone and broken. I'm a walking disaster that's what I am.
Actually you would have gotten this chapter sooner but I found myself in the pub last night and felt a bit worse for wear this morning ;) And I'll be waiting for the postman to deliver my cake, yum.
noro - Thanks and here's the chapter :)
Rogue meets some of the locals in this chapter, although it has another angsty ending. You've been warned.
Wild Thing
Once Logan had left I had two choices; go out find a bar and get absolutely paralytic or return to my razor. After giving it, oh, I don't know, lets say thirty seconds thought, I decided I had already missed hours of valuable drinking time. If I'm currently stuck in this God forsaken small town, why not make the most of it.
Drying my eyes and burying the pain inside, I stand up and search for the perfect outfit. Finding a low cut top with long sleeves and a pair of stonewashed denim jeans that were last in fashion in the early nineties, I change rather gingerly. Both my arms are throbbing with pain now but I don't give it a seconds thought, what I need is money.
Having another dig around in yesterdays jeans I find a twenty dollar note which is not going to get me far but its a start. I throw on my vomit splattered green converse and add a touch of makeup. Gazing in the bathroom mirror at my reflection, I come to the conclusion that I don't look half bad, well for an insane person that is.
As I walk to the door twenty in hand, I begin to brainstorm for ideas on how I'm going to get my hands on more booze. If I don't have the money, I'll just have to find a compliant enough guy with cash to burn.
I discover a dingy bar ten minutes from the motel room called Pissed Off Pete's and with no apparent cage fighting in sight and an all day happy hour promotion running, I think I've found my place.
An all day happy hour doesn't make much sense to me but I feel a scrap of excitement at the prospect of two for the price of one. I'll head inside, wasn't I told once to follow my instincts? Well my instincts are screaming at me to get the hell in the bar lickety-split.
They say you learn something new everyday and I've learnt that pulling down my top a smidgen or two to show more cleavage gets me served no questions asked. I'm starting to like this bum fuck of a shitty town.
I'm drinking from a pint of beer with a straw and I'm receiving countless a mystifying look from my fellow customers. Do guys not understand the concept that lipstick and a beer glass don't mix. I'd rather not smudge my makeup, is that too hard for a guy to get their head around, obviously it is because they're still staring.
Five minutes later a guy in his late forties approaches complete with a beer belly and a bald patch. Looks like I've gone and found my first victim. I hope he has deep pockets.
"We don't get many beauties like you up this way." He slurs, his breath almost knocking me out cold. "Your hair's a bit funny but I'm liking what I see. Fancy a drink, girl?"
How could a woman turn down an invitation like that, huh? Please understand that the last comment was meant to be extremely sarcastic. I mean, look at the state of him.
Again, I shudder at the smell of stale beer on his breath wising he'd go puff somewhere else. "Why not." I shrug feeling slightly tipsy myself.
I only have five dollars left, thank fuck for happy hour/day/night. Badgering the guy into ordering me a fancy cocktail with a rather erotic name that even makes me blush, I down the first drink in one go. As I'm sipping the second I hear a tip tapping of angry heels behind me.
"Harold!" A lady screeches with ear splitting accuracy.
"Ah, Maggie, my dear." The guy that was hitting on me cries.
Oh well, there goes tonight's meal ticket. I shrug to myself and carry on drinking.
"Listen to me, you little whore!"
Huh, is she talking to me?
I look around searching for the little whore in question and I don't see her. Actually I'm the only other female in the damn place.
"Who, me?" I ask pointing at myself.
"Yes, you, you home wrecking whore!"
Wow, those are some fighting words.
"Whatever," I snort finding the situation absolutely priceless. Swiftly finishing my drink I attempt to stand.
Whoa, those last two drinks have gone straight to me head.
"I'm not done with you yet, hussy!"
Turning to the brazen cow, I give her a scathing glare. I look her up and down and she has the audacity to call me a hussy, mutton dressed as lamb comes to mind.
She might as well have left home dressed in her underwear for crying out loud and at her age, Jesus Christ. I'm tempted to put a rolled up twenty down her bra and ask her how much she charges.
"Well, I'm done with you." I answer coldly.
I just want to get drunk in relative peace, is that really too much to ask? Apparently so because she doesn't look like she's going to back off anytime soon.
"Now, look here!" She shouts, hands on her hips and her foot tapping on a creaky floor board.
"No, you look here. I wouldn't touch your repulsive bastard of a husband with a ten foot barge pole, so get your facts straight before you start shouting your over sized mouth off!" And with that said and a potential cat fight averted, I make my way over to the other side of the bar, I need another drink.
Here we go again, I find myself a quiet spot to park my cute little ass and another moron stumbles over. Oh joy, of sweet joys.
"Do you believe in love at first sight or shall I walk past again?"
Now idiot number two is pretty similar to idiot number one, except he has a slightly alarming Hitler moustache and a pair of man jugs that I would be stoked to call my own. He buys me three shots of whiskey and I get another three shots free. So that would be... Um, five shots? No, that isn't right, is it?
Idiot number two stands patiently waiting for me to finish my drinks as he orders himself another bottle of beer. He clears his throat and smiles as he checks out my legs with his eyes twinkling in glee.
I groan as I try to ignore the horny freak. Why can't he go and take his lecherous desires elsewhere? No calm down, Rogue. He's just a random dick and he did buy you the shots. I can put up with him for a bit, lets just call this my good deed for the day.
"Have you got something to say?" I ask growing bored of my present company. He's just standing there staring, not saying a fucking word.
"Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the ten I see!" He shouts, spilling his beer down his shirt.
You see, I try and have a friendly conversation and look what I'm rewarded with for my efforts, cheesy fucking pick up lines. What the hell do they put in the water supply around here?
"No, Mississippi actually." I answer politely feeling rather drunk now.
"That's a great pair of legs you have there, what time do they open?" Idiot number two asks checking his watch.
I sit on my bar stool for all but ten seconds in utter bewilderment. What the fuck did he just say to me?
"Do you want to repeat that?" I snarl getting to my feet.
"Sure, little lady. I said, great pair of legs, what time do they open?" And again he checks his watch.
Is this one of those shows where you meet an obnoxious prick and if you don't bite their head off in twenty minutes you win a hundred dollars?
"So, what do you say, me you and the alley way out the back?"
This shit is going to stop right now, if he wants a hooker Mrs. Mutton dressed as lamb is over in the corner.
Eyeing his yet untouched bottle of beer sitting on the bar, a thought springs in my mind and its an absolute beauty. I reach for his bottle and throw the beer in his face and when that doesn't satisfy me, I knee him swiftly in the balls and shove him into a crowd of dangerous looking bikers.
Number two falls into the group and I hear a collection of incensed shouts and jeers as he knocks over a good many of their drinks in the process of falling on his monster of an ass.
I smirk to myself, it serves the dick right. Did he actually expect to get anywhere treating me like that? I'm about to sit back down and order another drink when all hell breaks loose as the bikers attack idiot number two who somehow manages to dodge a punch and the hairy biker hits some poor unsuspecting man.
Okay, not so poor. Mr. Unsuspecting has just knocked Mr. Hairy biker out in one punch...wow. One enormous bar fight commences with furniture getting broken left right and centre. I'm more then inclined to sit back and watch the show until Pissed off Pete emerges from behind the bar with a sawn off shotgun. Um, time for the Rogue to haul ass out of here, me thinks.
As I take a crack at my impression of a sober young lady who is more than able to walk straight, I bump into Mrs. Mutton dressed as lamb helping idiot number one to their car. As we both stand in the parking lot giving each other the evil eye, I giggle at the absurdity of it all.
I only wanted a drink and now I've caused a major bar fight and will probably be banned from this shit hole of a small town for the rest of my life. Life just doesn't seem fair sometimes.
"I know what you are tramp, you're a mutie. I just had to take a look at that hair of yours." The good for nothing bitch hisses closing the door on her incoherent husband.
"Don't tell me your parents threw you out." She grins cruelly as she sees my face fall.
"I bet they wish they'd drowned you at birth, imagine having a mutant as a daughter, you must have been such a disappointment to them."
I feel the uncontrollable rage bubble inside of me as I watch Maggie smirk knowing that she has hit the nail on the head. There's no way I'll take this lying down, she might be right about my parents but now I've got a score to settle with her.
I thank my lucky stars as I catch sight of a randomly dumped crowbar on the ground. I suppose it wasn't such a bad idea to come drinking in the crappy part of town in the first place, you never know when you might need a weapon to go on an unplanned rampage with.
Now its my turn to smirk spitefully as I pick up the crow bar and walk towards her.
"Wait, wait mutie, don't hurt me." Maggie weeps throwing her arms over her head and crouching low in the dirt.
Now that's what you call a rapid change in behaviour. Stupid woman, I was never going to hurt her but I can always take my frustrations out with an act of frenzied vandalism.
I raise the crow bar above my head and smash the car windscreen with all my strength and I stumble around the car shattering each window with added might. Not tiring at all I pummel the bonnet, with each blow I think of my parents hateful words, Logan calling me insane, Bobby dumping me for Kitty until I'm overcome with tears and breathless.
Dropping the crow bar at my feet, my eyes widen at the totalled car and the whimpering Mrs. Mutton dressed as lamb. Oh God, I'm insane, he was right I am insane. I can't do this anymore and glancing once more at the destruction I've caused, I run.
I've been stumbling in circles for a place to rest for the past hour and have found quite by chance an old stone bridge. Sitting on the crumbling wall of the bridge and dangling my feet over the side, I stare down at the racing current beneath me.
I wonder if the water is as deep as it looks? I'm fairly high up, would a drop like that shatter my bones, would it be like landing on concrete? Would it hurt, would I die quickly, is drowning an easy death, do I really want to die?
Wiping the tears away and sighing heavily to myself, I allow my thoughts to race at a breakneck speed. What do I have to live for, I have no boyfriend, no friends, no family and my parents they... They hate me. You see, I rang them up just to talk to them four months ago and they told me they didn't want to know. My own parents were repulsed by what I had become, a mutant. They still see me as a mutant after taking the cure. But I don't have my mutation anymore, I literally have nothing. I don't even have my sanity. I've lost that as well. Not a soul cares if I die, I'm unwanted, an unwanted and unloved insane girl.
That's all I have, a choice. A choice whether I live or die. I'm thinking about the drink and the drugs, they give me some pleasure, don't they? But they're not enough any longer, I need more. I just want someone to love me, care for me, hug me, tell me that everything is going to be alright.
Everything isn't going to be alright though. I'm on a bridge contemplating suicide with my arms cut to fucking pieces, a belly full of liquor and a whopping great chunk missing from my heart.
I falter and nearly plummet head first off of the bridge as I try to stand but no I won't let this be an accident. My final act in this fucking crap life will be deliberate, I'm hardly going out with a bang but its in no means a whimper either. As I close my eyes and take a step towards the edge, the sound of a car screeching to a halt carelessly beside the foot of the bridge startles me and my eyes snap open.
The headlights illuminate the surrounding area and I feel as though I've been captured in a spotlight. I'm on fucking stage but I don't have butterflies in my stomach, I don't feel nervous, I'm at peace with the world. I hear the drivers heavy footsteps on the gravelled road behind me but the water below has bewitched me, it has a hold of me and I can't look away.
"Kid?" I hear Logan say, evident worry bleeding into his usually sounding gruff voice.
"Come on, look at me."
No, no I won't look at him. I won't let him stop me, not this time. I take another small step and my toes are now positioned just over the edge.
"Hey, we can talk about this… Kid, come on." He sounds so desperate, I chance a brief glance at him.
I break our eye contact and return to calmly gazing at the river.
"I'm insane, I can't be here anymore, it hurts too much." I sob quietly knowing Logan with his acute hearing has heard every word.
"You're not insane, I didn't mean to... Look, just grab my hand, Marie."
I look back at Logan with his hand outstretched and his eyes compelling me to listen. Then I look down at the unforgiving river. What do I do? I don't know what to do, I just...What the fuck do I do?