I died.
I actually died.
My heart stopped beating, I stopped breathing, the whole nine yards.
Can you comprehend that?
I mean, how many people do you know came back from the dead?
And it just goes to show how strong my mutation is. It works when I'm dead. How many people can say that?
It makes me sick to my stomach.
How can I work towards control when it can't ever be stopped?
I don't think anyone knows.
If I told Logan, he'd freak out, and seclude himself.
Which isn't that uncommon, but still.
I don't even think the Professor realizes.
I guess you can say that's why I've become so morbid. I'm always wearing black.
I'm allowed to dress like I'm dead.
Because I actually was.
So, I guess you can say I've just given up hope.
It's sad.
But it's ok.
What's the worst thing that could happen?
My death?
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Quite short, and a little different.