I am the stuff of nightmares. The shadow that lurks in the darkness. The beast that snarls at your door.
I see it in the eyes of the students, and even the staff at that damned mansion. The automatic lowering of their glance in reflexive submission to the predator inside me. The extra berth they give me as they pass me in the halls. The faint scent of their fear, the quickening of their pulse, the shortness of their breath. They are so accustomed to it that they don’t even realize it’s happening any more, but I do. Every damn time.
A wolf among sheep. It’s our tacit agreement that I try to hide it. Pretend that the animal has been tamed, that the man is in control. I keep the claws hidden, and pretend I can’t smell the pain and the fear and the lies. I smile every now and then, and if at times someone catches a glimpse of what lies underneath, they tell themselves that they’re mistaken -- that I’m just a grumpy old man in a young body, gruff Professor Logan. I save the bloodshed and mayhem for missions, the only time I let the leash slip on the Wolverine. That’s when the truth is revealed -- my claws deep in the warm body of my victim, seeing the recognition in their eyes of what I am, just before the life drains out of them.
I don’t belong here, I never really have. I stay for her. The only person I’ve ever really cared about, in the meager two decades that I can remember. Something in her, from the moment we met, that called to something in me. Wide innocent eyes, seeing things in me that I’m still not sure are even there. That sassy mouth, covering up her starvation and despair with pure backbone. Earning that ridiculous name she had given herself, Rogue, and then sharing with me -- and only me -- the real girl underneath. Marie.
She is the only one who never feared me. Absurd, reckless, oblivious -- I still can’t explain it. She first laid eyes on me when I was beating the crap out of someone in the cage, and then a few hours later saw me nearly skewer the asshole, and for some reason, that didn’t deter her at all. She wanted to be with me, right from the beginning. Against all reason, she chose me. Even once she had me in her head, once she knew beyond a doubt what I was, she never changed her mind about me. She craved my presence like it was sunshine. Like I craved hers.
I don’t know why or even exactly when it happened. When I started to notice that she was less of a girl, and more of a woman. When the animal inside me started scenting his mate. Her soft breasts, pressed against me when she hugged me hello. The long lean line of her thigh as she settled in next to me on a saggy couch. The enticing scent of her as she pressed into the warmth of my body. She can’t have known what was scrabbling beneath the surface. The desire to possess her, to own her, even knowing that doing so would corrupt and destroy her.
That reckless innocence and courage I saw in the girl is still there, but surrounded in the woman by a strength of heart and wisdom more in keeping with the eleven decades of experience in her head than the two decades of experience in her body. She knows something is wrong, she has to see the distance I keep between us now. I felt the tension in her body as she sat next to me yesterday, while I watched the hockey game. The hitch in her breath, the furtive glances towards me. I had to run, before the animal made the choice for me. Soon I’ll have to run for good, to keep her safe. I swore to protect her, and I will. Even from me. Most of all from me.
I am a slavering beast. A predator, my body torn down and rebuilt for the sole purpose of mindless killing. I am death, and I will not allow that to touch her. I will not allow myself to touch her.
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