It wasn’t me she fell in love with.
First night we spent together in my bed, she told me she loved me. She told me she had loved me from the beginning. Ever since she laid her eyes on me in that cage. And there, in her embrace, her soft core still throbbing around me, I realized it wasn’t me.
I tried not to think about it. Pushed it out of my mind. I shared my life with her. Lived with her. Breathed with her. Made love with her. Every day she told me she loved me. Every day it hurt a little more. Those three little words dealt more hurt than my six claws had ever dealt.
I think she started to notice that something was wrong when I stopped coming home every night, like a good little puppy she expected. Of course she thought I had started drinking again. And fighting. And fucking around. But she never blamed me. Not once did she ask me in the morning where had I been, when I stumbled home, reeking of cheap liquor and even cheaper perfume. Of course she didn’t ask. She knew me from inside out. She only cast me this look, worry and hurt mingling in her eyes, and told me it was okay. She understood. I had to do something to get rid of the nightmares.
I wanted to lash out. Every time I wanted to grab her, crush her against the wall and make her see it wasn’t about some fucking nightmares. It wasn’t about my life. It wasn’t about me. And every fucking time I kept my mouth shut, hands deep in my pockets, other grasping the keys to my bike, other small bottle of perfume I had stolen from Jean’s locker.
I think Scott noticed something was going on. Good old Scott. He stopped the scenario in Danger Room just before that Sentinel managed to swipe my head off from my shoulders. I told him he shouldn’t have stopped it. I could have taken it. I’m not much of a liar. He told me to go and talk to Professor before things got too far.
It wasn’t me she fell in love with. It became easier to bear when she stopped using those three words. When she stopped telling me she loved me. I could still see those words in her eyes, but if I didn’t want to, I didn’t have to look her in the eye. I could turn my head away and pretend everything was just as it was supposed to be. That it was the man instead of the mindless beast she loved.
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