I can’t touch. I don’t really exist in this world. It passes me by. Because I cannot experience it, cannot feel it, cannot share in the simple joy of holding hands. Touch is a big sense to be missing out on. Sure I can feel things through my gloves. But it’s not the same. Cold doesn’t hit me as cold, smooth doesn’t feel so soft. Subtle variations cannot be discerned through leather or silk or cotton.
The first time I kissed a boy, he ended up in a coma. What clearer sign do I need that I’m not meant to be a part of this world? Professor Xavier and his little X-Men can pretend to be concerned but they can’t understand. So I’m leaving. He’s a telepath for God’s sake, I doubt I have to leave a note. I’m sure he’s listening right now. How can someone feel this much despair and not project it?
But there’s a sense of resolve now. I know what I’m going to do. I need to leave. This falseness, this pretending, I can’t go on with it. No one really wants to get close. They avoid me in the hallway, as if I can kill them by simple proximity. So I’m leaving. I want to be alone in my head but with others outside my body. But it’s the other way around. I hate it. I can’t get a moment’s peace and I can’t get a moment’s comfort.
_________________
I threw everything I had into my duffle. It barely filled the damn bag. It was just clothes. Barriers to keep people safe. Separate. No personal things, pictures, notes, keepsakes. Just clothes.
I headed down to the garage, wondering what mode of transportation to take. I figured I’d just borrow something and turn on the locator when I was finished with it. None of the cars the Professor owns fit my needs. I wanted something beat up. Like me. A nice pick-up. I could throw some gear in the back, travel from city to city. Maybe make my way to Alaska. If I make it that far. I finally picked out the least expensive looking car and found the matching keys on the rack. Suddenly the door squeaked and I jumped, whirling to face the noise.
Logan.
Damn his hearing, his smell, his heightened senses.
“Where you think you’re going, kid?”
“Away,” I mumbled.
“Why?”
I wished “’cause” was an appropriate answer but he was giving me a look like it wouldn’t be enough. “Going to Alaska,” I replied, sidestepping his question.
“To get yourself pinched again?”
“The Brotherhood hasn’t been heard from in months,” I flared at him. “Their machine didn’t work; they’re no longer interested.”
“Want some company?”
What the hell! Of course I wanted company. But I can’t have it. I’d resigned myself to it. Sorrow blossomed around me but I pushed it down.
“Why would you want to come with me?”
“The Wolverine needs his freedom. Haven’t had a decent fight in months. It’ll be good to be on the road again.”
“But why me?”
“Listen, kid, I promised to protect you. I’m coming with. If I manage to get some good cage fights in, make some money – that’s a bonus.”
Part of me ached for company. But, as he is so fond of reminding me, I was just a “kid.” I couldn’t possibly be fit company for Logan. Not caring that I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to come, I agreed. “Get in the car. But I’m driving,” I replied with a brave smile – braver than I felt.
______________________
What am I going to do?, I thought to myself. Logan can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous. We’ll have another accident. Or he’ll get bored and leave. That will hurt more.
We’d been driving for an hour in silence when Logan suddenly spoke.
“So what route do you have planned?”
“First, I want my own car so we’ll stick to New York for the time being. Need to get enough money. Then I can send you back with the Professor’s car.”
Logan snorted, “Fat chance, kid.”
I rolled my eyes, “It was worth a try.”
“And then where?”
“Across Canada and to Alaska, of course.”
“How do you plan on getting the money?”
“I’m going to whore myself, obviously.”
Logan’s face remained impassive.
“God, it was just a joke. You could pretend you were fooled for a second,” I sighed. “I absorbed a pool shark once and figured I could turn up the Southern charm and con money from evil, unsuspecting men.”
“How will you know which ones are evil?”
“I’m sure the Wolverine will give a growl to let me know who’s a good target,” I replied with a sweet smile.
“I thought you’d planned on running off alone and now you’re already incorporating me into your plans?” Logan looked at me curiously.
“Well... I... um...” I stalled for time as I tried to figure out where I got the idea from. “I’m just taking advantage of a situation.” There. A tactical answer. That should satisfy him.
“What would your plan have been if I hadn’t showed up?”
“Same basic plan. Hustle pool. I’ve been on the road before. I know how to read people.”
Logan cracked a smile, “Let’s test these skills you say you have.”
“I can’t hustle you,” I complained. “I know you.”
“Just pull over at the next bar on the road so I can see what you can do or else I’m taking your ass right back to the mansion.”
“God, Logan, I would have been fine. You should have just stayed in bed. “
“Who says I was in bed?” Logan growled and I instantly knew he must have been awake after a nightmare. Those horrid nightmares we share.
I looked over and saw the pained look in his eyes as he remembered. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Not your fault, kid,” was his gruff reply.
I hesitated and then put forth a compromise, “Why don’t we find somewhere to stay and we’ll do the whole hustling thing tonight. I’m not much in the mood to be charming.”
Logan sighs, shaking the memories from behind his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
______________________
We got two rooms at a rather seedy looking motel, but it was almost sunrise and I just wanted to sleep. I paid for my room; he paid for his. I wondered how he knew to bring enough cash with him? He didn’t run to go get ready or anything - just hopped into the car with me. I wondered how much he knew about my intentions?
I curtly said good night to Logan before tiredly slouching into my room. I locked the door behind me and sank against it.
Alone.
I slowly pulled the finger of each glove, loosening it up. I pulled each glove off with a flourish. Freedom.
Freedom is being alone. Not needing to worry about others.
Each piece of clothing that fell away increased the feeling of freedom. In just my underwear, I stretched my arms out, wiggling my fingers, free of all the protective layers. I headed for the shower.
I locked the bathroom door behind me. Can never be too safe.
I squirted out the shampoo, giggling a little at the noise it made as it plopped out. Vigorously rubbing it between my palms, I created a sudsy lather and massaged it into my scalp. Aaaahhh. So good.
I worked my way from my scalp to the tips of my hair. I looked around, checking for any mysterious on-lookers who were secretly hiding behind the mirror. Don’t judge me, I know they’re there. I got some more shampoo and completely coated my hair with it, styling it into silly ‘dos. First I put it up into an elegant twist, then Princess Leia buns, and finally into an approximation of Logan’s wild hair. I laughed quietly to myself, enjoying this moment of fun in private, forgetting about everything else. I closed my eyes, leaning back, rinsing the shampoo and silliness out of my hair.
I reached for the soap to begin the next stage of my shower. As I soaped up my arms, I reflected upon my white skin. So white because it was constantly hidden. Why was I cursed this way? In a split second I had gone from a silly girl playing with her hair to an angry crying mess. I slammed my fists against the tiled wall, tears mingling with water as I stood sobbing under the spray.
The sobs subsided and I quickly stepped out of the shower, rushing to get dressed so I could huddle in the bed. Curling up under the scratchy motel sheets, I stared off into space, tears slowly meandering down my cheeks. The slow cry took me over.
God, it’s pathetic. Too many different types of tears for one girl. The breath-draining sobs where I painfully gasped for air, the single tear that leaked when I tried to hold it in, the tears that welled up but stayed in my eyes as long as I didn’t blink, the silent tears, the slow tears that grew cold soon after falling, and so many more.
Tonight, it was the slow tears that grew cold on my cheeks as I tried to push away the overwhelming sadness. I got so tired of fighting, sometimes. It would be nice, just once, to have someone care enough to help me. I was so tired of being my last line of defense against myself. If I could fight, damn it, why couldn’t someone fight with me?
With such desperate thoughts and wracking sobs, I drifted off.
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Story Notes:
Biggest thanks ever goes out to the best, most awesome person, Dr. Girlfriend.
Also, I've never been to Canada or Alaska so it's all from my imagination. Sorry if I get things wrong.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Also, I've never been to Canada or Alaska so it's all from my imagination. Sorry if I get things wrong.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.