Author's note:
I do not own X-men evolution or any of the characters in it, but I DO own
Rikhel (Xallutamair), or OC. Please review, and enjoy the story! I will
update frequently.
"Father, for the love of god, let me out. F--FATHER?!? PLEASE, I'm begging you, Magneto, LET ME OUT!" The walls of the already sickeningly cluttered closet seemed to be closing in upon him. Magneto was obviously either ignoring his cries, or had just left him...left him to die more than likely. Pietro yanked down on the thick chains that suspended him high above the ground. The crimson blood running down his arms, soaking and staining his clothing a dark red; it was nothing to him anymore. Nothing but numb...
Hiding my imperfections
Before my resurrection
Faults free for inspection
Free finally from deception
Lies of my invention
This problem that I mention
Might keep me from redemption
I'm losing my perception
This idea of my conception
To save me from my-
Suicide......
He heard, to his delight, a loud crack as his left wrist finally snapped under the pressure of his remaining body weight. Again he waited for pain, but none came... but, the blood still came. He hadn't the strength to look up and acknowledge the injury. His metabolism would be the one to kill him, not his broken and tattered body. Pietro had already been without food or water for 2 and a half days, and not being able to run, to run away from this horrible diseased hell, was slowly driving him insane.......nothing but escape mattered anymore, even if that came in the form of death.......nothing.........
Pietro woke in a cold sweat. Why the hell did he fall asleep? He never let himself fall asleep, ever. He jumped quickly up off the worn couch, scattering pop-corn and candy wrappers everywhere. Pietro ran briskly to the upstairs bathroom, the only one anyone bothered to clean. A shower, a cold shower would wake him up fully. No more sleep, he couldn't keep having that damned dream; he flatly refused! About half way up the stairs, he turned his attentions to the hanging wall- clock Lance had hung next to the front door; 2:56 am. Only about three fucking hours into the morning. He slammed his fist down hard on the banister, causing the stairs to vibrate slightly. "FUCK, I can't last all god-damned night!! No way in hell!" The adrenaline he'd inherited from the nightmare was still holding strong, but how long would it last? How long would it be until sleep caught up to him again? "Looks like another fun-filled evening with my friends, caffeine and classical music...maybe the shower will save me from having to endure Beethoven." He continued his clumsy trudge up the stairs towards the bathroom.
"Father, for the love of god, let me out. F--FATHER?!? PLEASE, I'm begging you, Magneto, LET ME OUT!" The walls of the already sickeningly cluttered closet seemed to be closing in upon him. Magneto was obviously either ignoring his cries, or had just left him...left him to die more than likely. Pietro yanked down on the thick chains that suspended him high above the ground. The crimson blood running down his arms, soaking and staining his clothing a dark red; it was nothing to him anymore. Nothing but numb...
Hiding my imperfections
Before my resurrection
Faults free for inspection
Free finally from deception
Lies of my invention
This problem that I mention
Might keep me from redemption
I'm losing my perception
This idea of my conception
To save me from my-
Suicide......
He heard, to his delight, a loud crack as his left wrist finally snapped under the pressure of his remaining body weight. Again he waited for pain, but none came... but, the blood still came. He hadn't the strength to look up and acknowledge the injury. His metabolism would be the one to kill him, not his broken and tattered body. Pietro had already been without food or water for 2 and a half days, and not being able to run, to run away from this horrible diseased hell, was slowly driving him insane.......nothing but escape mattered anymore, even if that came in the form of death.......nothing.........
Pietro woke in a cold sweat. Why the hell did he fall asleep? He never let himself fall asleep, ever. He jumped quickly up off the worn couch, scattering pop-corn and candy wrappers everywhere. Pietro ran briskly to the upstairs bathroom, the only one anyone bothered to clean. A shower, a cold shower would wake him up fully. No more sleep, he couldn't keep having that damned dream; he flatly refused! About half way up the stairs, he turned his attentions to the hanging wall- clock Lance had hung next to the front door; 2:56 am. Only about three fucking hours into the morning. He slammed his fist down hard on the banister, causing the stairs to vibrate slightly. "FUCK, I can't last all god-damned night!! No way in hell!" The adrenaline he'd inherited from the nightmare was still holding strong, but how long would it last? How long would it be until sleep caught up to him again? "Looks like another fun-filled evening with my friends, caffeine and classical music...maybe the shower will save me from having to endure Beethoven." He continued his clumsy trudge up the stairs towards the bathroom.