She’s gone. I thought it was bad earlier, to see her every fucking day, but this is pure torture. I can’t even see her anymore. Just have to live on, knowing she really chose him. Chose Scott. And I can’t even imagine what hell he’s going through right now. Serves him right. At least he had her. I didn’t even have her, and I feel like I’m missing a fucking limb. It’s not decent. It’s not healthy. It’s not good for me, but I can’t fucking help it. I can’t make it stop.
“Logan?” And what part of ‘stay the fuck away’ she didn’t understand? I thought I had made it pretty clear to all the people around here to leave me alone.
“What?” Grumpy? Sue me. She’s dead, and because I happen to live in a world that has decided for some reason to screw me over time after time, she basically told me to fuck off when we spoke for the last time.
“You haven’t eaten anything for the whole day. I brought you a sandwich…”
“Do you want me to tell you exactly where you can stuff that sandwich of yours?”
“Come on… Ham and mustard… Little cheese…”
“Marie, I’m not some fucking three-year-old! Get the hell out of here! Leave me alone!”
“Fine. I’ll eat it myself, then.”
“Good.”
“Marie?”
“Yes?”
“I kind of thought that you would be leaving.”
“Nope. Wouldn’t be right to leave you alone.” And why the fuck not? I was doing just fine on my own. Getting involved got me in to this mess.
“Aren’t you thirsty?” Because that sandwich looked dry as hell, and she’s still chewing the last bits.
“Little. Do you have anything to drink?”
“ No. You know where the kitchen is.”
“Jerk…”
“Didn’t ask you to come in and keep me company.”
Fucking Jean. Like she couldn’t have stayed in the jet to do what had to be done. She could have stayed. Should have stayed. If not for me, for Scott.
It’s so fucking hard not to cut up him. Every fiber in me screams to release my claws and run them through him, to swipe the slate clean. Get rid of the last obstacle. Late? Maybe… May very well be… But at least it would make me feel better. Make me feel like a man again.
“It’s okay to cry, you know.” In what fucking universe it’s okay to mourn after another man’s wife?
“It doesn’t make you anything less if you dare to show your feelings.” I’ll show you a feeling…
“That’s rude. And childish. Flipping a finger won’t make you feel any better.” And how the hell would you know?
“Weren’t you thirsty?” Why the hell won’t she leave?
“I was. But I’m okay now.”
“Well, I’m not. You have to go and find someone else to pester…”
“Duh. I came to see you, because I know you’re not all right. I want to make you feel better.” Yeah?
“You want to make me feel better?”
“Yes.”
“Strip.”
“What?”
“You heard me…”
“But… Why?”
“There are exactly two things that would make me feel better. Getting plastered, or getting laid. Since you don’t have any booze on you…” Just take the hint and leave. Before I really hurt you.
“You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to scare me off.” Fuckfuckfuck. Shit. Fucking unbelievable. Leave. Now.
“It isn’t working?” Why the hell do I sound so squeaky?
“Nope. I’m still here. I won’t leave you.” Stop. Don’t… Don’t touch me. Take that hand off from my shoulder before I lop it off. Something’s going to give soon if she keeps rubbing like that.
“Keep your hands off…” Crap. Too late. I can’t fucking breathe. Fuck this hurts…
“Just let it all out… I got you… I got you…”
“Don’t go. Don’t you leave me, too…”
“I won’t. I’ll stay with you.” She can’t possibly mean that. No. And I can’t possibly be this stupid. This pathetic.
“Tighter…” She’s so fucking gentle. She can’t break me, not physically… I’m fucking falling apart here. I’d fall to itsy bitsy pieces all over this place if it weren’t her hands around me, pulling me back together. This is really pathetic, but I don’t fucking care anymore.
“Come here…” Not enough. Have to get closer. Closer. Just let me hide.
“Watch out! You nearly touched…”
“I don’t fucking care about your fucking skin! Stop fussing!” Stop. Stop moving. Stop talking. Just let me hide. Give this to me.
“Uh… Logan?”
“Yeah?” Maybe we can talk a little. I don’t feel like every word could shatter me anymore.
“You were trying to scare me off earlier, right?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I hope she speaks ‘mumble’. Kind of hard to talk with my face buried to the crook of her neck. Thank God for turtleneck sweaters. And gloves. Her hands in my hair make my whole body tingle.
“It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t… Use me like that.” Guess again, kid.
“Yeah…”
“It wouldn’t work anyway, with this skin and everything…”
“Would you already stop worrying about your skin? You want the truth? It freaks me out. Hurt like a bitch both times we touched. But you’re covered like a fucking mummy most of the times. I usually have clothes on. There’s no problem.”
“Then why… Why do you keep touching me?”
“It’s not a big deal for me. And besides, people touch all the time. Killer skin or not, you’re no different than the rest of us. You need touching as much as anybody else around here.”
“Am I some sort of charity case for you?” Fuck. Don’t. Don’t do this kid. You know I’m no good with words.
“No. No charity. Somebody.” I don’t know what you are. I fucking wouldn’t know myself at the moment. Don’t make me explain more. I have no fucking words. I only hurt.
“You’re somebody to me, too.” Christ. Kid… I thought I was already done with crying…
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