justprompts How do you handle fear?
It was an accident. A real, honest to God accident. The boy had been horsing around with friends and knocked into Rogue as she walked down the hallway. It wasn't her fault that when he'd fallen his hand had connected with her cheek. It wasn't her fault that it took a few seconds to push him off, to break the contact.
Of course that didn't stop the others from staring wide-eyed at her, from jumping in the air as she pushed herself up and barked at them to get a teacher. She ignored their flailing bodies as she righted the kid, making sure to keep his head up as she checked for a pulse. It was hard not to growl as someone gasped, fearful of her touching him even though she wore gloves.
Ms. Monroe was there moments later and Rogue was grateful to be cast aside. She waited to make sure he gained consciousness and then she was gone.
Thankfully the Danger Room was vacant. She didn't relish the idea of trying to navigate the bike when she was this pissed. Lashing out at robots and simulated people was far better than doing so to her classmates. She didn't understand how they couldn't see that they treated her exactly how the world treated them.
Rogue attacked and defended herself for hours, ignoring the tension creeping up her limbs. She refused to quit until her body made her. Eventually she collapsed to her knees, wiping sweat from her brow as she ended the program. She tore off her gloves and threw them across the room, crying as she heard them land against the steel. No matter what she was always going to be a damn pariah. An outcast amongst the outcasts.
She let herself cry for a few moments before angrily wiping at her tears. She wasn't a wilting flower, she wasn't going to let another's opinion break her down.
She was fearless. She was strong. She was Rogue.
Of course that didn't stop the others from staring wide-eyed at her, from jumping in the air as she pushed herself up and barked at them to get a teacher. She ignored their flailing bodies as she righted the kid, making sure to keep his head up as she checked for a pulse. It was hard not to growl as someone gasped, fearful of her touching him even though she wore gloves.
Ms. Monroe was there moments later and Rogue was grateful to be cast aside. She waited to make sure he gained consciousness and then she was gone.
Thankfully the Danger Room was vacant. She didn't relish the idea of trying to navigate the bike when she was this pissed. Lashing out at robots and simulated people was far better than doing so to her classmates. She didn't understand how they couldn't see that they treated her exactly how the world treated them.
Rogue attacked and defended herself for hours, ignoring the tension creeping up her limbs. She refused to quit until her body made her. Eventually she collapsed to her knees, wiping sweat from her brow as she ended the program. She tore off her gloves and threw them across the room, crying as she heard them land against the steel. No matter what she was always going to be a damn pariah. An outcast amongst the outcasts.
She let herself cry for a few moments before angrily wiping at her tears. She wasn't a wilting flower, she wasn't going to let another's opinion break her down.
She was fearless. She was strong. She was Rogue.