Anything. Anything but this. Day after day taking care of fucking responsibilities. Day after day being responsible. Day after day being patient. Day after day hiding the fact that I’d love nothing more than to wreck some real havoc. Day after day restraining my basic needs and urges. Day after day being civil and polite. Day after day gritting teeth and smiling until it feels like my face will split half from the strain.

She knows. Marie knows. She knows me from inside out. She knows what it is to smile and keep going when all you want is to tear in to everything and everybody surrounding you. She knows what it is when you want just let loose and scream because you can’t take it anymore. She knows everything about it. I have seen it in her eyes, just brief flashes when she’s sitting with her friends and they keep chatting about something so stupid that it makes me want to gauge my ears out so that I don’t have to hear a word from it anymore. She knows.

You reap what you sow, they say. Did it put it in her? Yearn for blood and screams? I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want to let it all out. I want to let it all out with her. She’d understood. She’d welcome it. We’d both enjoy it. I can see it in her eyes when she keeps watching me, thinking that I don’t notice.

She’s calling me. Calling my blood, my flesh and skin. Calling me to dance. I’d like to answer to that call, but I have to stay back. Like obedient little puppy, housetrained and leashed. Just keep going and hoping that one day this all will be over. Keep hoping that one day this all will be over and I can break loose from the chains that pin me down.

Does she understand what those glances do to me? How the scent of her arousal and need makes me squirm and why I have scratched my knuckles raw already? Itch. It’s itching, burning inside of me, and no matter how deep I dig my nails it’s never enough, I could scratch my bones clean and itch would still be there, it’s in the bone already, and it doesn’t go away. I’d get rid of it with blood, buckets of it to bathe my body and mind, heavy torrents running over me like in dreams, like those dreams where I bury my knuckles so deep against her chest that it’s impossible to tell where I end and she begins.

She’d welcome it, I know. She’d welcome me with open arms. She’d scratch me raw; she’d try to erase the itch. She’d soothe it, if only momentarily. She’d do that.
Then I could scratch her itch.


“Logan, would you go and pick up the kids from the mall?”

“Yes, Storm.”

“Oh, and Rogue called. She’s running little late, she asked if you could go and pick her up little later.”

“But of course, Storm.”

Like an animal, running around, doing their bidding, fulfilling their every whim. They don’t see what’s lurking inside, threatening to break through. They don’t see the slow churning of insanity. They don’t see, but I can fucking feel it.

It’s eating me piece by piece, gnawing at me like a worm. Festering like an ugly wound, a boil ready to burst, just add some pressure and there it goes.

Pressure. They keep adding it. Pushing me further. Further and faster, like they’re trying to see when I break. Storm knows better than this, she fucking should know better than this, I’m not well. I’m no good. I’m not fucking sane anymore.

They keep pushing me further and faster, each and every one of them. All except one. And one of these days I will snap.

She beat me to it, though.

She lost it at English lit, exactly 10.32 am yesterday.
Started screaming and trashing, tearing the pages of the book she was supposed to read. When her teacher tried to calm her down she tore in to him, nearly took his head off. Next to go were her classmates. Cuts, bruises, broken bones. Nothing fatal, none of them dead. But hurting.

Fuck. I wish I would have been there and seen it happening.

I bet she was beautiful.

I bet Bobby’s last thoughts before his head slammed against the chalkboard weren’t ‘oh-my-god-I’m-going-to-die’. He was swearing the god for sure, but I’m positive that the boner I saw on him when they carted him out of there was telling the truth.

Pathetic little prick.

Like I was any better.

Seeing her like this, pacing back and forth in the half-light, their blood on her drying slowly, her eyes scanning my every move… I’m so fucking hard that it hurts.

She’s too beautiful to be looked when the lights are on, so I adjusted the level of the light in her cell to the dimmest setting. She seemed to like it. I like it. I can still see her, but the image is slightly blurred. I don’t have to see those eyes of hers. I don’t have to see the fire still burning. I can keep pretending that it doesn’t matter. I can keep pretending that she’s better off locked away like this. I can keep pretending that I’m not planning to go in there as soon as everybody else goes to sleep.

“Logan, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

Fuck off, weather girl.

“I know how hard it is for you, it’s hard for us all to see her like this…”

Yeah. I’m hard enough. Get the fuck out of here now.

“But I’m sure it’ll be better as soon as she calms down a bit.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right… I’m… I’m going to sit here for a while. Just to make sure that she’s alright. But you can go to sleep; I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

“Okay. But remember to get some sleep. You’re no good to anybody if you’re all tired and cranky.”

“Good night, Storm.”

They don’t understand. They wouldn’t even begin to comprehend, they’d lock us both up and throw away the key for good, that’s for sure.

They’d only see what happened, they wouldn’t see the outcome. They wouldn’t see how it is much better now for the both of us.

I can’t claim that dealing with them will be easier now. It won’t be. It won’t be easier for me. It won’t be easier for her, but for the time being this is all we have. The only possible outlet. Regardless of the fact that people surrounding us are trying their best to fuck us up completely we’ll have to deal with them.

“Oh, Christ…”

She took me in. She accepted me. She knows what it is to be me. She lets me to be me; she doesn’t try to change me in to something that I’m not.

She doesn’t have her mutation anymore, and that’s a shame, but she seems to be quite resourceful girl.

“Fuck!”

Xavier… He did have a clue. An idea. He saw the shadow and tried to make it go away. He nearly managed. I guess he’s better off dead. He would have gotten in the way eventually, and I’m not sure if I would have had it in me to finish him off.

She’s my God. The one and only deity I will ever beg or pray.

“Marie…”

It’s kind of hard to talk, but she needs to know.

“Kid…”

Oh, God. The way she looks right now…

“I l… love you…”

I don’t know if she heard me. I don’t know if she cares. She’s so wrapped up to this… She can’t have me, not the way her mutation allowed her to, but there are other ways and it looks like she’s decided to try all of them.

I liked the blowjob, fuck, loved every second of it. But that wasn’t enough for her. Wasn’t enough for me either, so I fucked her. Fucked that soft little pussy and ass, but it wasn’t enough, not even near enough for us.

She likes my claws far better than my dick. I get so much deeper with them.

I like her teeth and nails more than her pussy.


“What the hell are you doing?”

“Well, what does it look like, Storm?”

“That’s just disgusting… If you must masturbate, at least have the decency to do that in your room, not in the observation booth!”

Yes, mom…

“Sorry. I thought you went to bed already.”

“I didn’t. And I certainly won’t now. I’ll keep an eye on her from now on. You can go to hell for all I care…”

Eventually you have to sleep.