You're not sure when this whole mess started.
They appeared when you were young, not quite a teen, not quite a kid, after you'd had the worst day of your life.
It had been a rough week for you. First, you're scolded for defending yourself. Next, you're set up as a scapegoat. And finally, you're being forced into doing something you don't want-
Then all Hell breaks loose.
You find yourself surrounded by Them, and the people who had hurt you- they're frozen in terror. For the first time in your life, they're not the ones in control, amd they hate it. They're feeling exactly how you felt, had always felt, since the moment they'd first hurt you.
It terrifies you.
Not because of the power, or the faces upon faces of Them watching-
No.
It scares you because it feels good.
The reality, the illusion, the nightmare, snaps back upon itself, swallowing you whole...
itsstarlessbeautifulhorrifyingcoldcoldcold
Then it dissipates, leaving you out of breath and stranded in the depths of a forest, freezing, alone, yet free...
When you try to sleep that night, hidden in the decayed hollow of a fallen tree, you spot one of Them-
"AH!"
You fall out of the hollow, squishing your back into the damp rot of the leaf litter. The figure before you is ghost-like, blurred around the edges yet their features clear as glass. Claws glint from their hands, trailing down past their knuckles, sharp and deadly as any sword. Their face twitches, a hint of emotion-
Then They hold out their hand-
And you take it.
Warmth washes over you, a cozy blanket compared to the damp chill of the midnight woods. You lean into that ember of comfort, embracing it if only for the moment.
"That'll do it... we... I... it's nice ta see you again, kid... It'll be okay..."
You see Them more and more, ever helpful, ever sad, never saying what they want or why they're there. But they're always there, rain or shine, better or worse, and they help keep you alive and give you company. They sometimes scare you. The power that They give, the control that you lose... it's both euphoric and horrific all in the same breath. But without Them, you'd surely be dead ten times over. The people of this world... they hate something called "mutants". And that means they'd hate you too. After all, with the powers you wield, what else could you be? You're barely able to survive as you are, as there's always a new trial by night, a new pain by morning, as you try to navigate this wild, unwelcoming world. By the time you're older, you're so used to being alone that it had never occurred to you to seek companionship, solidarity, other mutants.
They try to lead you towards that choice.
"It's a good idea... who knows what the humans would do to get ahold of your powers... there's safety in numbers," whispers one, their mind brushing yours.
"They're brutes, the lot o' 'em... can't stand anyone more powerful than 'em, so they'll cut ya down before ya've even begun ta grow," growls another, claws and fangs gliting sharply.
"It's wisest to seek others like you out... that way lies hope, child," advises another, their hair curling around you like clouds.
You don't say a word, watching the rain break upon the ground like waves on the beach.
You didn't choose to meet them, but they chose to meet you.
You're squirrled away in an old museum for the day, avoiding the crowds and gazing up with wonder at the exhibits all around you. It always amazes you how such small, cruel creatures such as man can destroy so much, yet create such beautiful things. You hardly notice when someone brushes past you, too enraptured at the found art exhibit shaped like animals.
"Ahem. Um, hello! Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you here before," says a teen, standing next to you. Thick red shades cover his eyes, but you can feel his stare. You nod once, then turn to leave. You're not great with social interactions... "W-wait! Um, please. I wanted to ask if you've heard of the Xavier Institute."
You stare at him, puzzled. "No, I haven't..."
"Okay, not a problem. It's a school for people, like us. A place for-" he lowers his voice- "mutants. Would you like to join?"
You're frozen in place, trepidation marring your thoughts. How could he have known that..?
"I'm afraid I told him that, child. Ah, you must be ******... I am sorry to approach you this way, but you see, I sensed you, and we try to help young mutants in need, such as yourself," apologizes a new voice, reverberating in your head. A man in a wheelchair rolls over, coming up on the other side of the teen. Where did he come from..?
"You can have anything you need with us. You'd be among friends, safe, with no need to worry for your health or safety. If in any case you don't want to accept, that is perfectly alright, my dear... the choice is yours..."
They urge you to accept. They tell you they can help you... They whisper how you'll wither on your own, that if the humans find you, they'll hurt you, or worse... And if others got their hands on you, they'd destroy you, snuff out your light, leave you broken, empty, dead throughout, like the hollowed remains of a broken puppet...
So what can you say except-
"When do we go?"
The Institute isn't bad. If anything, it's the most accepting place you've ever been to, have been allowed to exist in. It's steady, warm, inviting, with new faces and stories to learn, to join, to become a part of...
Scott is the name of the teen you'd met, the one with dark red glasses and a dark teal sweater. He's a stickler for rules, trying to keep in line and please the Professor. But underneath it, he's a bit of a dork, sweet, able to bend some of the rules if it means helping someone in need. His mutation can't be turned off, only held in, hence why he wears shades. You try to keep an extra pair nearby, in case his ever get lost or broken...
Jean is the other student of the Institute, an A+ student, perfectionist, telekinetic, and telepath, all in one. While she's fiery when angered or protective, she's also loving, encouraging, burning bright to cheer you or Scott on... You leave small red rocks for her, as a thank you for being so kind to you...
There's the Professor, gentleman, teacher, telepath and kindly old soul. He may be stern, but he does care, letting you hide away in his chess room when the noise becomes too much, or when your anxiety makes you question every gesture, every word, every action of those around you... You don't mind sharing tea with him, finding it soothing to your mind...
Ororo helps mentor you and Scott and Jean, another presence and a protective force when needed. She's the calm in the eye of the hurricane, the cloud that cradles you in hugs, the breeze that cools your fear... You like to visit her greenhouse in the attic, helping her tend her plants and nurture their needs while enjoying the scent of fresh rain and damp earth...
Logan is there too, gruff, rough around the edges, and tired in his eyes. But he's kind, if firm, sticking to his morals and keeping the Institute safe, as well as all those who call it home... Some nights when you can't sleep, you find yourself in the kitchen with him, playing cards or watching old reruns of The Twilight Zone...
For a while, it's just the six of you. It feels good, surrounded by others like you, who don't shun you or mock you. They wouldn't think to. It's gentle, lulling, fresh water to your weary spirit.
They don't think it's enough. They are worried for you, so They say. They tell you to open up to them, to be honest, to not hide, and you try, if only to stop Their worry. But still... why isn't it enough? What's worried Them so?
Soon enough, they bring in Kurt, goofy and soft and friendly. He's adventurous, trying new foods and slang, open to different cultures and ideas. It's a new experience, seeing someone blue with bright yellow eyes, but it doesn't stop you from shaking his hand. It certainly never stops you from sneaking late night snacks with him, or watching old pirate films...
Soon there's Kitty, too. Bright, preppy, dressed in pink, and smart to boot, she's easy to get along with. It's fun listening to her rant about teen drama or talk about new fashion trends. It feels so weird though, when she listens to you as well, not belittling you the way others had done in the past or bullying you for your interests... It feels nice, being included like this...
Evan joins next, street smart, quick-witted, and a bit cheeky. You found him cool, different, and didn't mind watching his skating moves or basketball games. It was a peach to discover he liked some of the same music as you... So you didn't mind sharing your cds and cassettes with him, the both of you listening to the drowning symphony of bass and drums and guitar...
Then finally, afterwards, there's Rogue. Quiet, reserved, lonely. You feel for her, empathy flowing from your cup and soft words falling from your tongue. It's no problem for the two of you to sit in silence, reading for hours... And neither of you mind finding the other in your silent corners of the Institute, sharing those quiet moments together. The shared quiet is solace, still and calm in the hidden halls...
Everything seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary (the mutant version of ordinary). There were no signs of outward danger, no struggles, no violence. You didn't feel trapped, or anxious, or fearful...
Or did you?
Was it when you'd wake up in a cold sweat, a scream upon the tip of your tongue, your blankets soaked through with sweat and heart pounding inside like an avalanche falling down? Was it every time you tried to go out, only to be accompanied, a hand on your shoulder, eyes always glued to your every movement, watching, always watching? Was it all the times your senses snapped back to you, making you alert to everything surrounding you, the dread, the trepidation, the all-encompassing fear, the need to get away? Was it when your mind would be lulled, the frantic, cutting, burning edges of reality dulled before it, and them wrapping around you, pulling you back down into the calm quiet, whispering that it would be okay, that you wouldn't hurt ever again..?
Is this your fault? Is it Theirs'? Or was this unavoidable, inescapable, destined from the start of this?
Running from them is bad. Staying is even worse. Had they known, had they set this up-?!
Was it so bad that you wanted to be accepted for once? Was it so hard to be loved? Was it so bad to want that?
But this-
Is this really what you wanted?
You'd been trapped, caught in a web woven just for you, by spiders you didn't know to exist, to fear, that you didn't know laid snug threads and gave warm smiles, all to catch you, a moth in a word full of flies.
And now? It might be too late.
"Sorry, kid, but yer ours... yer one of us, and we don't abandon our own... Don't you remember that..? Now... hold still..."
You try to break free, to cut through the woven threads caging you, the strings controlling, the cocoon pinning you to the spiders' web-
And then you're snapped back to your senses, the ceiling of your home above you, the couch hard and lumpy beneath you. The TV set crackles softly, static humming softly in the still air of the room. An old alarm clock shines bright numbers, 2:01A.M. ...
Was it all just a dream? Was it just a nightmare?
You blink, leaning back to rest amongst the old cushions and thin blankets, breaths hiccuping as your heartbeat thumps slower, then slower still... You turn your head slightly, catching sight of an X-Men series playing softly on the screen.
Oooh... oh.
You let out a sigh of relief.
It was all in your head. Just a midsummer night's dream... You're safe. You're fine.
It was all just your imagination.
Or was it?
The threads are woven now, the trap set to lure you in again...
If there is a next time, will you be so lucky then?
"Sleep tight, kid, we'll get you home soon... that's apromise..."