As Spider asked just weeks ago, am I in the business of satisfying our leader?

In more ways than one.

As I lay next to him, bathed in moonlight and fixated on the stars framed by the fractured ceiling, I suppress swelling tears that shouldn't be. I am realizing, as my heart yearns for him and my mind berates me, who the puppet is… I have been used. A goddess fallen. What is more, I have allowed myself to be used, given myself willingly—and love it. I have surrendered my chance of being loved by Remy Lebeau, bludgeoned it bloody and discarded the mangled remains with my own selfish motives

In the process, I have destroyed a piece of him. But isn't that what I set out to do? How is it I find myself yearning for nothing more than his approval? I want him to want me… I need him to… as Ororo. I do not want to be his nighttime discretion, his clandestine sin. I want to be his Ororo… his Stormy.

I recall tonight, recapturing the knowing smile that forms on his face as I quake beneath him, a breathtaking wave rippling through me and my legs lock around him, clutching him tightly to me. I ignore the fact that he is whispering her name and instead drown myself in him, the smoothness of his skin against mine, the delicate kisses on my jaw line, the way he subtly steals traces of my scent from my hair, the memory of his hot breath on my neck, stubble scratching lightly as he whispers softly in my ear, French words I do not understand but ignite me nonetheless. But then, after the desire has subsided and he remembers who I am, reality sets in like the steel of a knife in my ribs. As I lie there, drenched in his sweat, the scent of our intimacy pervading my senses, the warmth of him still between my legs, my fears come alive when his body hardens against me… rejecting me once again.

The change is subtle; I do not know if he consciously does it, but I notice nonetheless.

I ignore this effort to dismiss me and instead, prop myself up on one arm to look at him and run my fingers through his auburn hair, an involuntary smile gracing my lips as I feel the tangibility, the actuality of him. He relaxes slightly yet still only dares nothing more than a glance of me as he clings to his ideals of his wife. I clench my fist around those chestnut brown locks as hard as I can muster, digging sharply into my palms, and viciously jerk his head sideways, forcing him to crash to reality, to know who is in his arms.

"Remy, Look at me." His scarlet eyes flit to the side and I hold his face between my hands, my own hovering inches from his causing my white hair to spill over my shoulder onto him. I manage to scream words unbroken by forming sobs, "Look at me!" Acknowledge me! Love me!

This time, he complies, and again I am afforded a glimpse of the fire in those crimson eyes, the fire I have been chasing, but the flame is dying, suffocated by his self loathing for what he has committed tonight, and every night before it. Goddess, what have I done? What have I done?! No… it is him… it is not me! It is not my fault! I gave myself to him and he is the one who doesn't love me!

"You bastard!" I scream, caring not who might hear, as I pound my small fists against his bare chest. I try vainly to bruise him and make him feel me somehow and he allows it, quietly taking his punishment for being a fiend. Only, he is not the monster to be blamed.

I want to love him, I want to hurt him; I want everything and nothing to do with him.

I do not want to lose him, I want to keep him like this forever, keep pretending I know what I am doing just so I can feel those hands on me every night the rest of my life, sleep against the warmth of him in the safety of his arms, taste those lips whenever I fancy and dig my ankles in the small of his back when he ravages me. I need it all and deserve nothing.

Exhausted, I collapse and sob against him. He holds me tight, rocking me in his arms, his silver tongue providing consoling words I do not hear because I cannot help knowing he was right. I am nothing more than a child. A foolish girl pretending she is his woman.

I am weak. I am selfish. I am a disgusting, foul, despicable creature and do not even deserve to share his bed, tainting his soul. "Forgive me." The words, foreign to my tongue, unexpectedly slip with the instinctive skill of a lifetime of practiced concession. They feel wonderful on my lips and I echo them several times until I am sure he will go mad.

Instead, his hands, large and rough, tenderly rest on either side of my face. One thumb gently caresses my cheek, wiping away tears, the other stroking my bottom lip as he studies my face. I blink, sending unshed tears cascading down to my chin.

I have asked him for what I need most and he forbids me. Remy is well aware my frailty and his touch is murderous. My body aches to melt into his while my mind emphasizes my wretchedness. Divine retribution I deserve and embrace as I tremble unfulfilled under his orchestration.

I am in Purgatory.


I hold her to me and try to soothe her pain. But I know I can't. I know very well what I've done to her is beyond repair. What I've done to us is now irreparable. I tried to stop myself, every time, I tried to run from it, to save us both from the abyss we've dived in. I should be able to. She asks me to forgive her…But I'm the adult here; I'm the one that should be responsible.

Something inside of me is broken, and it can never be mended. I can try to fool myself as much as I want, but it is hopeless. I love her. I do love her. And yet... I am playing games with her, using her to relieve my pain, using her to replace someone else…but I love her, in a strange kind of way, in a way that makes me sick. I came to need her, not only for herself, but for all she represents, all she reminds me of, and eventually I came to love who she is beyond that. But the fact is, loving her never made me forget about Stormy, never closed the wound that aches inside my chest. Loving her has made me suffer more, loving her made me realize that my love for Stormy will always eat me up inside. Loving her made me feel ripped apart with guilt.

Is it possible to love two women at the same time? Is it possible to feel guilty about both?

Every time I come to Ororo, I think of Stormy. And every time I think of Stormy I miss Ororo. As the line between sanity and madness begins to fade from my mind, I superimpose the two, trying, in vain, to mold them in one. But it´s impossible

I love her. But I wouldn't love her if she weren't…my wife's copy. That doesn't rob my love of any honesty, I know, but is a betrayal of her anyway. She knows it. I wish she didn't realize, but she does, she knows that…no matter how much I love her, how honestly and truthfully I love her…she'll always be a replacement. I will always love her, not only for her, but also because she brought a part of Stormy back. Because I love her, I should be able to protect her. But how can I protect her from myself? How can I love her and destroy her with my love at the same time?

I come to the realization that I'll never be completely hers, no matter how much I want; no matter how much she suffers, no matter how much I suffer…It will never be.

This love…it was tainted from the beginning.

Now, as she breaks apart in front of my eyes, I despair, knowing I'll never be able to give her what she wants…what I want to give her. Ororo has finally discovered pain. I kind of pain she never imagined possible, but which I know too well. For I was the one to teach her, with depraved expertise. I can only hope she won´t follow me as I fall...

I should have known better…I should have known she couldn't take this, I should have known how to be stronger, how to keep my grief from erasing my sense. I should have kept my distance and allowed her to stay in that blissful state of complete innocence and unawareness she was used to live in, and from which she would, eventually, have grown out.

As I wipe away her tears and melt into her embrace, I see with clarity that no matter what I do, no matter what happens I will always have something broken inside of me, and not Ororo or anyone can mend it.…

I am in hell.