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“Ororo, I want you to cry for me. Your beautiful when you cry.” Her head was bowed to him, but she would not, could not obey. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t. No matter how hard the tears beckoned to be free. Her eyes burning. She looked away, and saw her naked reflection in the huge glass window. The city of New York, shown before her. The lights, the tall buildings. They stood majestically, like the way he felt. Was that why he had brought her here, to intimidate her.

“No!” She stared at him, matching his gaze. Showing no signs of backing down. Yes, she may have shorter than him, but at that moment for a second she grew. Loving the feeling that she would not be taken again by this monster. Not like all the other girls, who had been so petrified, that they let him have his way.

The anger twisted and deformed his rouged features. His eyes darkened, but she did not back down, maybe that was her mistake, she had grown to cocky, even if it had only been for a few measly seconds. Though it was enough to make him snap.

His fist connected with her face, blood trickling from her bottom lip, a single tear escaping her power.

“Cry.”

************

She woke. The first time she had ever gotten to look at her own face, contorted with pain. Feeling weak and helpless. Not able to stop it.
But it was not just the dream that woke her. Scurrying out of bed, removing her night clothes, and redressing into some loose trousers she made her way out of her room, and downstairs, still trying to pull her two sizes too big sweater over her head, and over her braless breasts.

Singing ‘Sister’s are doin’ it for themselves’ -Eurythmics, as she walked.

“Now there was a time when they used to say, that behind every - ‘great man.’ there had to be a - ‘great woman.’ but in these times of change you know that it's no longer true…”

She slowly made her way to the door, the bell ringing ferociously, hurting her ears. Who ever was ringing that bell was certainly impatient, and it wasn’t the postman. Who would be ‘calling’ at this time in the morning anyway?

“Ororo?” The voice came from the kitchen, and it sounded as annoyed as she felt. She had hoped for a lie in, spend time on her artwork.

“I’m on it, Daddy. Put the kettle on would you, I wanna pour hot water on whoever that is.” She said, with sarcasm hinted in her voice.

“Of course, but as long as I can watch.” Laughing she opened the door, her eyes widening at their visitor.


“Err, Mr. Howlett, how can I help you?” But what she really meant was ‘What the fuck are you doing here.’

Her heated gaze, made him slightly uncomfortable. Why had he come here? His thoughts lost at the sight of her, hair unbrushed making her look like she just escaped out of some mental institute, and in hiding, the clothes didn’t help either. The crazy look worked with her, he had to admit, made her look like the artist, she had said she was, or was hoping to become.

“Hello, anyone in there?” Waving her hand in front of his face, she couldn’t help it, she just had to laugh.

“Yeah, I was wonderin’ why you didn’t show up yesterday. You signed the papers, you attend meetings,” he said as he walked past her, as she let him in. She took in a deep breath, and sighed. "And please call me Logan, Mr Howlett makes me feel old." She giggled, she felt like that too, Miss Munroe-okay so it didn't sound as bad, but still...

“I know I didn’t come, and I’m really sorry, but I’m a little behind on my artwork and well…” she looked at him hoping he would understand. By his expression he didn’t.

“Well darlin’, we all have to make sacrifices but that’s if we wanna help ourselves, and looks like your art is the one that’ll suffer for a while, instead o’ you.”

Okay, she was slightly worried, to her normally, that would have made no sense, and meant no meaning, the strange thing was, it did make sense and it did help her she reason. Her art was her life, had been ever since…Him or since her parents, she never really knew.

It was the way she expressed herself. Her ideas, her paintings were of distorted or deformed images, a person or group of people, some were of simple objects. It was how she saw life through curios eyes. When she painted, she would think of how one would feel in certain situation, or by looking at herself in the mirror, throwing water on the looking glass, to see the image, to capture it. Like in that one scene in ’Gothika’, when Halle Berry tries to see what a patient sees. But Ororo always saw herself.

Her line of thought was broken. She had noticed that it had been happening a lot lately.

“Ororo, waters boiled.” She smiled to herself, it was followed by a small laugh.

“Put it on hold, would you Daddy.” She answered, shouting over her shoulder. Logan looked at her, confused or amused. “A small joke, nothing to worry about.”

“Right.”

“You’re a real chatterbox you know that!?” she paused looking at him, studying his features. “Tea?” she smiled again, as she led him into the kitchen.

‘One heck of a smile she got, huh bub? She should do it more often’


She hadn’t expected him to ever visit her house but here he was. In the last two month or so, she had been attending meetings, and already she was able to extend the time in which one of her handshakes could prolong for. It had been a simple exercise, all of the group had gone out to collect as many handshake as they could, for charity purposes, only thing was, there was a catch. Each member had a hand buzzer. So each person and the receiving end of the handshake got a small electric shock.

It had been good fun. But at one point she released that the people who she shook hands with seemed unaffected by the ‘prank’. when she looked down at her hand, the buzzer had gone, vanished caput. Logan and the rest of the group, stood in front of her, clapping and so on. Her hand buzzer was placed in between Logan’s fingertips. She had to laugh. It was the that she remembered that she had taken it off at lunch.

To her, this day reminded her of riding a bike, for the very first time. The parent or guardian would hold on, and told not to let go, and when you least suspect it, they let you go, but usually you loose balance and fall of.

However, she somehow kept on going.

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