Hello everyone, this is my very first shot at writing fanfiction. Let me start off by saying that I do not own Marvel/X-MEN, nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just writing for fun, so no, I am not getting paid.
Also, this story is rated M for a reason, so read at your own risk (this is for grown folks).
It was dark. She heard muffled sounds. She did not know where she was, all she knew was she was in pain. Blood—lots of blood was in her hair, and dripping from her mouth. Her belly ached, and her fears grew more and more. She tried to reach down to caress her pregnant belly but her hands were tied over her head. She whimpered in pain anguish and fear of her unborn child. She new for certain that her captors has every intention of killing her and her baby.
Cold water splashed on her with harsh words to follow. "Wake up you mutie bitch…you can't pass out now, not when we are just having fun!" Another punch to the face and Rogue instantly felt her eye close shut and right eyebrow split. "You freaks are disgusting, look at you, you were about to bring another mutie freak into this world, but I got you just in time to put a stop to that." Her captor finally cut the rope that bound Rogue and she fell hard on the cement floor, breaking her arm and unable to move.
She used her hand to try and support her broken arm, trying with very little effect to curl up in the fetal position away from her tormentor, but the attempt proved to be difficult being so far along into her pregnancy. She had to think of something, anything to get out of this fucked up situation and fast, but how? Tearful sobs streamed down her face as she weighed her options, and later found that there was none; she was going to die, her and her unborn child. Even if she did manage to break free, she wouldn't get far because of her condition, and who knows what they would do to her then after her attempted escape? Just then she heard another person come into the dark room. Rogue forced herself to try and see behind her swollen eyelids, managing to make out what could be a woman.
The woman, dressed in what appeared to be black jeans with stiletto boots, with a blood red V-neck sweater and a cross on her neck, and her hair pulled into a neat hair bun, adjusted her night vision goggles, turned on the small overhead lamp and stood directly over Rogue. She stooped down to see the damage done to her; examining the bruises, bumps and cuts inflicted from head-to-toe. Smiling at this, she gave the abuser a nod of approval. "Nice work Farouke, you always make me proud!" The woman said, smiling wickedly at Rogue, showing no remorse or empathy of the fact she is expecting. "Do you know why we are doing this to you Rogue?" the woman asked calmly. "Don't you understand that this baby can never be born, and that if we let you give birth, you will doom us all?"
Rogue just shook her head in disbelief. "I have no idea what yah talkin about you psycho crazy bitch, but if yah gonna kill me, then do it!" She spat out in a calm fury. She figured that anything will be better than what she and her baby were going through right now at this moment.
"Very well then, let's get on with it….Farouke, continue with work, and please hurry, I would need to update the people as soon as you finish."
"My pleasure mistress," said Farouke as she left the poorly lit room. "I really like to do it with the lights on, what about you?" He asked with venom in his tone. "Fuck you, you bastard!" He slowly approached her with sweaty hands just itching to wrap around her throat. Rogue's breathing grew into quick deep breaths as Farouke clamped down tight like a vice. She fought and struggled to breath, scratching Farouke's arms, and trying to gauge his eyes out. She was fading from the fight, veins being squeezed to stop the blood from providing oxygen to her brain. Then there was silence; nothing but complete silence.
Rogue gasped for air while waking up in a hysterical fright. Tangled in the sheets, she kicked herself free from the bedding, got out of bed, and ran to the bathroom to vomit and to get a tight grip on reality. She held her flat stomach and watched the bile swirl down the drain when she flushed the toilet, using toilet paper to clean up the rest of the mess she made trying to aim straight but failing. She turned on the bathroom faucet to let the water run and splashed her face with the cold water. Grabbing a towel, she wiped her face and hands and looked at herself in the mirror.
With the nightmare still vivid in her mind, she pondered what it all meant, provided that she was not even close to being pregnant. Was this premarital jitters or something? What ever it was, it was disturbing enough not go back to sleep again. With a heavy sigh, Rogue grabbed her robe from the bathroom door and headed down stairs to the kitchen, for there was no need to try and go back to sleep after having such a vivid dream as that.
So what do think? Please review and let me know, I would love your feed back.