~Tell me what happened.~
I knew he was home from the shouting. I huddled under my thin quilt, trying so very hard not to cry. I hummed tonelessly, my fingers stomping up my ears, in an effort to drown out the sounds of his yelling and the impact of flesh slapping against flesh.
As always, it became too much to bear, and I pushed my blanket aside. Grabbing the worn arm of the one friend I had, my doll Lissy, I padded across my cold room on bare feet and nudged the door open wide enough to see through the crack.
I could see the shadows on the wall. He was hitting her again, I knew. Mommy said she didn’t know why he did it. I knew it was because she was bad, though. We were bad. That’s what Daddy said, over and over, every time.
Something strange was happening, though. Daddy wasn’t stopping the hitting, even though Mommy wasn’t crying anymore, wasn’t making any sound at all. I froze, not wanting to move. ‘Please don’t let him see me,’ I begged, holding Lissy tight against my shivering body.
That’s when I heard the shot. I didn’t know then what it meant, just that it was bad. The bad guys in the movies and on television always got into lotsa trouble from doing things to make that sound. I covered my ears, forgetting that Lissy was in my arms. I didn’t hear her drop to the ground, her hard plastic head causing a loud bump, because I was crying too hard.
He was looming above me before I knew it, yelling at me to shut up. He was swaying side to side a little, like he usually did, but that didn’t stop him from reaching for me. I ducked out of the way because I knew what was coming.
“You stupid little bitch, shut up!” he yelled at me, swinging a fist at me. He held a bottle in that hand.
“Please, Daddy, no! I’ll be quiet! I won’t be bad!” I cried loudly, ducking out of the way again.
“Didn’t I say shut up? Listen for once, bitch! I am so sick of you!”
The bottle hit my shoulder, and I felt pain rushing down my arm. I cried louder. I couldn’t help it. I really was sorry, and I wanted to stop being so loud, so that Daddy wouldn’t hit me again. But I couldn’t stop, I just couldn’t.
His fist slammed into my stomach next. I screamed really loud. I didn’t want to, but it hurt. I couldn’t breathe after that, or yell or even cry, but he kept hitting me. I could feel that bottle every couple of punches, the glass surface pounding into my skin the way even his fists and feet couldn’t.
I tasted something salty in my mouth. That was when I was on the floor, and Daddy was kicking my legs so hard. I heard something crack, over the curses Daddy was screaming at me, and the worst pain I’d felt so far was there, in my thigh. I did cry again, then, silent tears that maybe wouldn’t make Daddy mad.
I didn’t see the lights when they came because by that time I couldn’t see anything. My eyes were swollen shut. I didn’t hear the pounding on the door because my ears were ringing from where Daddy’d hit me with that bottle, right there beside my cheek. I felt wet streaks all over my body, and somehow I knew it wasn’t all tears.
The hitting and kicking stopped. I felt someone touch my hair, really soft, and through the bells in my head I could hear someone saying…something. I tried to focus on the words, but I was so tired now that Daddy had stopped.
The next thing that Marie knows is that she woke up in a hospital bed. Her leg was broken, her body covered in bruises. They told her that she was in a bad accident, that it wouldn’t happen again. She believed them. I prayed they were right.
She doesn’t remember what really happened, doesn’t even remember most of her life before that. Only the good parts, and some shouting. She does know that Daddy killed Mommy, and that’s why she was sent to live with the cousins in Iowa when they finally found them two years later. We were six when Mommy died. She was eight when we moved to Iowa.
~Why didn’t you just recede into the back of her mind, stay there where there wasn’t a chance of you being discovered?~
I tried. I stayed as small as I possibly could in her head. But the cousins Marie was sent to, Richard and Gail, were from Daddy’s side of the family, and they had his morals. They also owned a large farm and didn’t have many neighbors. The people who worked for them wouldn’t have been able to find other jobs, mainly because there were none available at the time that didn’t require college degrees.
The first time I had to surface and make her forget was when Gail smacked her so hard it left a bruise. I took over her thoughts, guided her through the days it took for her bruise to heal. Made her remember falling against one of the stable doors when it was partially open. That’s how Gail was explaining it, anyway.
Some things there I had to let Marie deal with, like the way Gail’s ten-year-old daughter Helen would tease her mercilessly about being fat and stupid, even though she was neither. When Marie began school that fall, I was always there in the shadows. I learned what she did, and with some subjects I’d help her. Math was never very easy for her, but I thought it was fun and so I would take over and do her homework. Marie would have been worried, if I’d let her. But I knew how to control her memories. It was so easy to make things up and put them into her mind.
The next time I surfaced to help her with real trouble was when she and Helen got into a fight. Marie was twelve and Helen was fourteen. Marie has a temper, and Helen pushed her just far enough to make her lose it. She’d done that before, but not with these results. They really went at each other.
Gail caught them before more than hair was pulled and arms were scratched. Gail beat Marie then, really hard. There were welts on my back for months. I stayed in control the entire time because I had to. I couldn’t let Marie find out what had happened and run. That was always her first instinct. Run from the trouble, run from the danger. I couldn’t. They’d only bring her back, and there’d be worse trouble.
Richard had been gone on a trip to take some cows north when it happened. He’s another reason I had to stay in control so long. He came home, heard what happened, and pulled off his belt. Right there in front of Gail and Helen, he grabbed me by the arm and beat my back with that leather belt until I bled. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, or even changing my expression. I’d learned that long ago. I’m stronger than you might think of Marie as being. I’ve had to be.
~Don’t you think she’s old enough to handle the truth now? She’s not six or eight or twelve anymore. Rogue…Marie is almost eighteen years old.~
Of course she’s not old enough! Could you handle finding out that your father almost killed you? That the people you were sent to afterward by the very establishment that had rescued you were just as bad? I’m Marie’s only defense against something that could harm her irreparably. I’ve kept all of the bad incidents out of her memories. I’ve been her when I had to be. Until…
~Until she began to change. Her mutation manifested, and…?~
Suddenly I wasn’t able to help her the way I had been before. I could feel what happened the first time she touched someone. You and she all think that her powers showed themselves when she and Cody kissed. You’re wrong. She wasn’t aware of the first time because I was in control. I was doing her pre-calculus homework when Cody came into our bedroom. He touched my shoulder to get my attention, and that’s when I felt it. His emotions, his thoughts were pouring into me. I swirled around really fast, but it wasn’t because I was surprised. Oh, no. You see, Professor, when the power came I did feel how it happened…and what I could do with it. I didn’t have to take over Marie to protect her anymore. All I needed to do was twist the power a little. And all of the abuse she’s suffered over the years made it so easy for me because her body and her mind were already used to coming up with defense mechanisms. That’s why I’m here, after all.
Marie is a contact telepath. I am too, for that matter, I’m part of her. We receive the thoughts and feelings of others through touch. It wasn’t a painful experience, that first time. I didn’t know it would be when I changed things, but even after I realized how much it cost her I couldn’t let go of the perfect opportunity to help her. It was so easy to make her skin do more than it was supposed to whenever someone touched her.
~Why don’t you let Marie have control? Can’t you trust her to protect herself? Trust us to protect her?~
But you couldn’t. You didn’t. And she can’t. Only I can. I’m the strong one.
~I’m sorry we weren’t aware of Magneto’s plans in time. It was an honest mistake. And I think Marie’s very strong and brave. She hitchhiked with a rather frightening looking guy, Logan, and was hitch hiking before that for eight months. Don’t you think that took some courage for her to do?~
I was always there, whispering my help. I think she sees me as her conscience or something. It’d be amusing if the situation weren’t so serious.
~Why can’t you let yourself be just that? Let Marie have back what you took from her to create yourself, what she took from herself to create you. Be a part of her again, child.~
I can’t. What if she needs me again? Marie doesn’t know how to protect herself.
~Listen to me, please. If you become a part of her again, Marie will know all of these things. She will be able to protect herself. She might even start to like math.~
A very nice try at humor, Professor. And I’m almost tempted to believe you, but I can’t. I just can’t.
~Perhaps in our next session, then.~
Perhaps.
~Same time next week?~
Yes, Professor. Same time next week. Do we have to go through it all again, though? Can’t we talk about something different?
~I’m afraid not, Lissy. Not until you can let Marie be whole again. We must relive it all. I truly am sorry.~
So am I, Professor.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Notes: Blame this on sociology and the ideas that class gave Furball. Also on Sez and Jenn who said it'd work. I hope they were right. No matter, this was something I had to write. It's very dark and pain-filled. Yes, the angst-Queens here have affected me. *g* This makes the assumption that Marie was just meant to be a contact-telepath, and that she is eighteen. In the story, Logan has been gone for two months. Dedicated to the above mentioned pair, who have supported me for a while now. To Diebs, who whimpered. To Nacey, for reading and thinking that it was great, and for some help with what the Prof might say. Also, to Charon, for the feedback that made me look a few things that needed improvement.
~ ~ is Xavier talking telepathically.
~ ~ is Xavier talking telepathically.