Chapter 15
“When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.” - Toni Morrison
Nothing had been touched since that day. No one had entered that room. Some didn’t want to, others refused entry by Logan. That being said, Logan himself hadn’t ventured back to Rogue’s bedroom since her death, which had been over a week ago. But today, he slowly moved towards the bedroom door, which had been left partially open after his hasty exit with Rogue’s dying body. His fingers carefully took the round handle, feeling the cool, solid brass against his fingertip before his knuckle clenched and he pushed the wooden door open.
Every item had been left the same. The bed still disturbed, covers pushed back from their exits. Rogue’s clothing still littered the floor from their antics, her chair pushed back from its desk; the seat which Logan had found her slumped in. Logan quietly made his way into the room, shutting the door behind him. He hadn’t been able to return to her bedroom because he didn’t want to see it void of her presence. She had been here for so long in the run-up to her death, it would be so raw to see it empty, and know why. The curtains were open against the afternoon sunshine, which filtered into the bedroom and lit it up in an ethereal glow. Passing across the room, Logan reached her desk, his fingers slowly running over the top of the wooden chair she had been sat at. His eyes slowly ventured upon her desk, seeing what he had missed that previous week. A piece of paper was set on its surface, an uncapped pen left not far from its side. Frowning, Logan slowly extended his hand to pick it up, recognising it to be a letter.
It was lengthy, filled with Rogue’s delicate handwriting.
‘To Mum and Dad,
I know it’s been a long time since I left home. And I know I haven’t contacted you since, but I am doing so now, and I hope you get this as soon as possible. First of all, I want to explain everything that has happened to me this year, because I need you to understand why I ran away. Of course, the rumours were true, I’m a mutant, and yes, my powers are dangerous. That’s why I had to go. I couldn’t endanger my family and hurt them the way I had hurt David. I hope he’s ok now, he came out of his coma just before I left, didn’t he? Anyway, I was on my own for quite a while, but I decided to start my road trip up to Canada, you know how much I’d been wanting to do that. I remember you getting fed up of me telling you about it. It was harder than I had imagined. I got lost a few times. I guess I’m just lucky I had some people to help me out, one of them being Logan. I know you wouldn’t like him, Dad; when you first see him, he’s got this untouchable, dangerous look to him. The kind of man you’d want your seventeen-year-old daughter to avoid at all costs. Well, I hitch hiked with him, because he was a mutant too. I needed someone like me, and he was the only option I found in the middle of Canada. But he’s still with me now. Don’t ever judge people by their appearances, but this guy has protected me so many times. He’s a genuine hero to me; I love him for everything he’s done for me, for everything he’s still doing.
I wasn’t hitchhiking with him for long. It was actually the grand total for fifteen minutes before we were ambushed. But that’s where the X-Men came in. You might have heard of them in the news. There’s a school in New York that’s especially for mutants, for kids like me, and for people like Logan. For mutants who need a home, and to be accepted and cared for. This is where we were taken, and where I sit now, writing this letter. It’s a huge mansion, you’d love it, Mum, and it’s got one of the most beautiful pianos I’ve ever seen. I even tinkled the ivories a few times when no one was looking; I kept my practise up for you, Mum. But this place is more than school; it’s a home, filled with people who understand me. Professor Charles Xavier is one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. He’s run this place, and the X-Men. He wants humans and mutants to co-exist. This place is the good guys. Not all mutants are bad; you’ve got to understand that.
But, there are bad guys too. Bad guys that were after me, come to that. Did you see the Liberty Island incident on the news? Well, I was in the middle of all that. I almost died there, but Logan saved me. His mutant power is healing, and because of my skin, when a mutant touches me, I borrow their powers. So you can see how Logan’s came in useful. I know this all sounds pretty dramatic, but I still did my homework when I got back to the mansion! We had some trouble after that, some guy called Stryker attacked the mansion and took some of the kids. The X-Men had to fly out and stop him, but one of them got killed.
It’s so hard with these prejudices. This is why if I can change your minds about mutants, then at least I’m making a difference with my own family. We’ve all got problems here. I can’t touch someone without almost killing them, Logan can’t remember anything about his past. He has these horrible dreams.. and since we touched, I sometimes get those dreams myself. He’s got a heart of gold behind all this tough exterior, and to know someone has done experiment on him, and tortured him.. it breaks my heart.
But now we’re up to date, this is my life now, and this is the main reason why I’m writing to you. I’ve have got to be blunt, it’s too hard to try and make it sound easier. I’m sick, and I’m dying, and not even Logan can save me this time. I can’t really describe what’s wrong with me, it’s pretty much unique, but its symptoms are similar to cancer. I don’t have much longer left, and I don’t think I’ll be able to finish this letter in time. I keep adding to it every day, but I know every day is bringing me closer to the end. Logan has been by my side all the way; he’s taken care of me so much.
When you’re reading this, I’m probably already dead. I only hope someone at the mansion will send it for me. But I’m happy now, life got better for me in the end. Even my powers disappeared the sicker I got. I know I’m only eighteen, but I’ve been lucky enough to find love. And it’s not some stupid crush anymore. I’ve got Logan, and I love him. When I’m gone, it’s going to tear him apart, I know it.
I’ve lived so much in these past few years than I have in my entire life, and I don’t regret anything except for running away. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I just hope you can forgive me, and treat mutants differently. That is –‘
The letter was harshly ended with the letter ‘s’ scrawling untidily down the piece of paper. The tears were creeping out of Logan’s eyes despite his efforts, his eyes trailing the blots of smudged ink where Rogue’s own tears had ruined her neat scroll of writing. The unfinished status, the untidy ending, both told Logan that this was why she had been sat at her desk. She had wanted to finish her letter, but during it, she had taken a turn for the worse. She had been dying.
She had guessed correctly in her letter when she was concerned she wouldn’t finish it in time. Her exhaled a soft sigh as he folded the letter up gently, slipping it in it’s nearby envelope and pocketing it in his jeans. He eased himself down into her desk chair, leaning one elbow towards the tabletop as he held his head wearily in a hand. Everything about this room reminded him of Rogue. Every possession she had displayed, the very scent of her that filled the four walls. His eyes were still burning with tears, and he roughly rubbed at them to cease the pain and try to vanquish any tears that threatened to fall. Despite him being able to keep his emotions just under control, it was the same inside. Inside he was wreaked. Inside, he was sobbing tears he thought wouldn’t ever end. The knowledge he wouldn’t even hear her voice, see her smile or kiss her lips ever again was horrendous.
Logan didn’t know how long he had sat at her desk in silence. His bowed head only supported by a hand splayed across his forehead and eyes, constantly fighting to keep his grief under control. Behind him, a quiet, timid knock emitted from the closed door. Logan just grunted quietly, but this was enough to prompt the person behind the door to enter. Storm slowly look in, her eyes so finding Logan’s sullen form sat hunch at the desk. “Logan,” she called gently, “the funeral’s about to begin.”
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