Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. I'm starting to like Lorna. R/R if you like this.
Jealousy. It's a natural human emotion and a very common one too. It goes by a lot of names. Envy, covetousness, resentment, mistrust, all sorts of names. They even came up with a little nickname for it. They say that jealousy is "the green-eyed monster". That's the one that always makes me laugh. If they only knew. If they only knew how monstrous jealousy can really be.
I have nightmares often. A person who has lived the kind of life I have doesn't usually have the sweetest of dreams. Because among all those who wear the X, I'm the punching bag for super-villains. Everyone knows about it, knows that my head has been screwed with so many times all it would take would be one wrong step to send me sliding into a void of madness. And I remember all those moments when I was someone else. I remember secretly reveling in being a monster. Because everyone has a demon inside them just waiting to come out. All it takes is a bad day, a wrong step, and you're suddenly everything you hate. But deep inside you, some part of you loves being what you hate or fear. In the end, the reason you hate what you hate is because you're jealous of it and you're jealous of it because it's something you can't be but wish you could.
But you could never understand that, Alex. You could never understand what it's like to walk along the hair-thin line that divides madness and sanity. You could never understand what it's like to wake up every morning with the dying screams of sixteen million people still ringing in your ears and haunting your dreams. Perhaps that's why you left me, because I had too much emotional baggage. Well excuse me, dear Alex; I wouldn't want to burden you anymore. Far be it for me to need something to help me cling to what's left of my sanity, to what's left of who I am. You did make the nightmares disappear, lovely Alex. I remember lying next to you the night after you awoke from your coma and came back to me. There were no screams then, precious Alex. There were no whispers from Malice or Shadow King or any of the other beings who turned me inside out and stole my soul from me. There was only assurance, the assurance that Alex would make me okay again. You were the light at the end of the tunnel, my love. How sad now to see that light snuffed out.
A part of me aches every time I watch you touch her. Did you know that, dear Alex? No, of course you wouldn't. You're too busy with your new love to bother with me. Yes, the little candy-striping whore. I forgot to mention that I don't always have nightmares. You see, on really good nights I have the most fantastic of dreams. I dream of killing that little slut, Annie. It's always a different method. Sometimes it's quickly with a large spike of metal through her chest. Sometimes it's slowly pulling the iron right out of her bloodstream or scrambling her brain impulses until she doesn't even know what her name is anymore. But it's always a delicious sight to watch. The screams of all those people I saw dying in Genosha are replaced with a single scream. And unlike the usual screams that echo like haunting requiems, this one is a symphony of agony. Little Florence Nightingale screaming as she dies, her cries of pain the sweetest tune I can imagine hearing.
Did you think it was a joke, sweet and dear Alex? Did you think you could just embarrass me in front of everyone I care about and then walk off hand in hand with little Annie into the sunset? I guess no one mentioned my condition to you. You pushed me off the tightrope, precious Alex, and there's no safety net to catch me anymore. You were the safety net, Alex. Every time I became consumed by all that's happened to me I still had the hope that I would see you again one day and that I could find refuge in your arms. But you spurned me, Alex. You dropped me like a bad habit all for your little nurse. It makes me want to vomit because no one seems to remember about me.
When is it my turn? For good chunks of my life I've been doing everyone else's bidding and fighting for everyone else's dream. Where's my happiness, where's my dream? I guess my feelings don't matter. Isn't that right, sweet Alex? Because if my feelings mattered you'd understand how much I need you now. But now all I can do is watch as you give your heart to her, to that little flatscan nurse. And every time I watch, I feel the anger and hurt and jealousy fester and grow, poisoning me like a virus. And every time I see the two of you, a little voice whispers in my head that I should just kill her and maybe you too. I know what that voice is. It's the remnants of those who have used me. It's the dark little monster inside me and it's growing all the time. People call jealousy, "the green-eyed monster". Look into my eyes, Alex, the emerald-colored eyes of the woman you helped destroy and tell me if you agree with them.