This wasn't happening. She closed her eyes when clawed hands tore her thighs a part. This wasn't happening. Strong legs were forcing
her to open up even more. Heavy weight of the man's body forced air
out of her lungs when he slammed in, cock hard and hot as a poker,
but it didn't matter. It really wasn't happening. And when it was
over, and man was licking tears from her face, thanking her, she
didn't really hear his voice, because he wasn't there. He wasn't
there before he left, locking the door behind him. Finally she was
able to curl to a tiny ball around her throbbing and aching body,
and curse him.
She had been on her way to the library, when suddenly, out of the
blue, motorcycle had roared past her. Her first impulse had been to
wave at the driver, but she had held her hand down. It wasn't Logan.
It would be Logan never again. So instead she had concentrated to
the cracks on the pavement under her feet. Sound of the motorcycle
had suddenly risen. Hard hand had tangled around her waist and she
had dropped her book bag, when driver had snatched her off from the
street, lifting her sitting securely between his legs. She hadn't
dared to fight, not in the speed bike had been going. They had
driven nearly an hour, out from the city; following rarely used
narrow dirt paths at the outskirts of it. Bike had finally stopped
in front of a ramshackle hut in the middle of nowhere. Driver had
gotten off from the bike and taken off his helmet, and it was time
to scream.
She woke up and grimaced. Blood and semen had acted like glue during
her short nap, smearing her thighs together. Her skin prickled when
she tried to move. Narrow cot creaked alarmingly when she rolled
down from it, on to her knees to the cold cement floor. There was a
bucket in the corner. No running water, just a bucket to take care
of her natural needs, and another bucket filled with cold water in
another corner, for drinking and washing up. Once a day he came,
brought food and used her, then left, leaving her behind locked
door. And somehow it all would have been much easier to bear if he
didn't thank her after every time.
"Relax, kid." She was sitting at Xavier's front porch on a swing.
Logan was there, sitting on a porch railing, leaning his back to the
support beam.
"How have you been?" She asked. Logan smiled his crooked smile.
"Not bad… But I heard you're not feeling so peachy." She shrugged
her shoulders.
"At least I'm getting it regular basis, now."
"Right. Why don't you drop him? I know you can."
"I don't want that creep rattling around in my head. It's enough
he's rattling around in other parts."
"Is he that good?" Logan asked.
She pulled herself out of that image and crawled to bucket to throw
up. Christ! She couldn't even daydream anymore! She leaned her head
to the wall and wiped her mouth groaning. Felt something hard and
cold against her cheek. Ring. Logan's ring. She hadn't had the guts
to take it away. She tore it off and threw it away. It clinked and
skittered over the floor, ending under the cot. She scrambled
hastily after it and fished it out, putting it back on her finger.
She wasn't ready for that. Not yet. She gazed towards the door.
Small patch of light filtered from under it. It was fools hope. She
had broken all her nails trying to shimmy it open. It was heavy and
surprisingly sturdy. Whole shack was made out of metal.
Evening came. Man came with food. She ate, and then man came again.
Distantly she was worried about the end result of all the coming he
did. She sure wasn't going to bare his child. She wasn't ready for
that. Only child she had ever even contemplated was Logan's, and now
even that little critter was out of her reach. No mini-wolverines
running around. No white picket fence. No comfortable wicker chair
on the front porch. No family dinners on Sunday afternoons. She
didn't dare to think what Logan's idea of a casserole would be.
"You know, I have been there. In this shack of yours. You were
there, too. Not the most pleasant hotel. Rude employees, crap for
food and housing arrangements leave room for improvement. But I made
it through. Kept thinking about you. Talked with you. In a way it
was the best week of my life. Just the two of us, no pesky
interruptions." Logan was back. Sitting in her cot, rubbing the
soles of her feet.
"You do realize you're not real?" She asked, moaning a bit when his
fingers found particularly sweet spot, just below her toes. Logan
chuckled.
"I'm as real as you want me to be. Turn around, I'll do your
calves." She did as he asked. Strong, warm fingers started to
massage her sore muscles.
"Why didn't you kill him?" She asked.
"Who? Victor? I didn't want to. He wasn't a bad guy per say, Magneto
had just gotten him confused."
"A bad guy? That guy is boning your wife on daily basis, and he's
just confused?" She couldn't believe her ears.
"I didn't say he was sane. And don't think even a minute this is
about you. It's me he would like to be doing. He's not doing this to
get his rocks off. He's doing this to humiliate me, like I
humiliated him back in that warehouse." All the while he was
talking, Logan's hands traveled higher.
"And again it's all about you…" she muttered almost sleepily.
"No. It's about us." His hands were kneading her buttocks now. Funny
how it didn't hurt. She knew she was black and blue from there, as
well as her lower back, too.
Angry growl of motorcycle disrupted her feel good session with
Logan. This time there was no food. This time man didn't touch her.
He just sat there, staring at her. Then he started to talk.
"I liked you better when you screamed." She didn't answer. She
didn't even blink. Maybe this time he would leave for good.
"Maybe it's time to tell the runt where to find you. I'm getting
tired of waiting him to find out himself. And he was supposed to be
the smart one…" Go ahead. Tell him. See if he comes.
"Won't… Come…" With Logan it was easy to talk, but talking with the
man hurt. Hurt her swollen and cracked lips. Every breath chafed
broken bones in her ribcage together. From the sound of her voice
man laughed.
"I heard you had a little disagreement. But he'll come." How come he
was so sure? Logan had made a promise. He wouldn't come unless she
asked him to.
"Rogue?" Voice was distantly familiar. Not Logan. Again it called
her. Suddenly Professor was there with her. There was somebody else
with him. She could feel cold, calculative mind.
"I have a lock on her. How do you want to do this?"
"Alone." Both of her guests disappeared. She didn't mind. After all,
Professor had been just a professor, distant figure behind his
enormous desk. He had never rubbed her back like Logan was doing
now, nimble fingers finding all the knotted muscles and nerve
endings.
"Where were we before we got so rudely interrupted?" She didn't
answer. He would pick up the conversation from where he wanted
anyway.
"Why the hell it has to be so hard? You, know, I haven't slept so
good lately. Not after I left. Xavier uses big words, and tells me I
have issues." This was interesting. Daydream was having issues. Did
that mean she was losing her mind?
"No. You're not losing your mind. You're surprisingly sane,
considering it has been almost six days already. At least you're
still talking."
"Yeah. But just for you. I don't like to talk with him. It hurts."
"Won't hurt much longer. I'm coming to get you out. Just sit tight
and keep on screaming when he wants you to.
"You're coming for me? Not that other?" Logan's fingers were
stroking her scalp now, and it felt so good.
"I had to ask him to help, but he has no claims over you. You can
stick with me, if you want to. Or I can leave, too. It's up to you
what happens after you get out." She turned on her back and took his
hands on her own, rubbing them between her palms. There was no ring
on his finger. He noticed her confusion and smiled sadly.
"I'm just a daydream. He's coming for you. He has the ring. You have
to make your decision, Marie."
Screams and sounds of scuffle from outside. Something heavy lands on
the door. Whole shack around her is shuddering, door gives up and
opens. Sabretooth falls in. Something dark stalks in after him. It
doesn't talk. It grabs him from the collar of his furred cloak and
pulls him on his feet. Cold metal flashes. Sabretooth is screaming
again. Scream ends to a gurgling sound, when Logan slits his throat,
almost severing his spine. Then he drags Sabretooth back out.
She can smell gasoline. She follows them with numb legs. Logan has
hacked off Sabretooth's legs and arms, and is pouring gasoline all
over him.
"I told you to stay down. Should have listened," he barks, leaning
close enough that bigger mutant can hear him. Then he backs off and
digs a booklet of matchsticks and a cigar from his pocket. Lights
the cigar and throws still burning matchstick to still breathing
pile of severed limbs and organs. Gasoline lights up instantly.
"Scott waits there. I'll stay and make sure this bastard burns," he
says, pointing towards dark SUV parked to a small distance from the
pyre. Stench of burning flesh caresses her when she takes couple
steps, closing the distance between them and embraces him.
"I want you to come home, Logan."
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