psl.

[theycalledmeacurse]

both beautiful and broken.

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[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Seven months. Some days, it feels like a lifetime, and others like no time at all. Those first months had been the worst, trying to find her way in a world that wasn't broken, at least not in ways that she could see. Not in the ways that she had died to fix — so, at least there was that.

But she hadn't actually died, had she? That was taken from her. Instead of waking up in a hopefully fixed new world with no memory of the old one, she'd woken up in a world where mutants had never existed, with memories fully intact. Her childhood, the X-Men, the war... She'd remembered every single day, and there were still hundreds of lives crammed into her head.

After a few days of living on the streets, she'd finally taken steps that she still regrets. Picking a few pockets in a crowded city, only from those who she knew were able to spare a little, she'd gotten enough for food and clothes and a bus ticket to the middle of nowhere. A place she could disappear and find peace, try to find a way to live again.

She'd stopped at the edge of the country, a tiny little town on the pacific coast. Somehow she'd convinced someone to give her a job, to pay her under the table. She didn't even have to make up a lie; the woman who ran the town's main diner took one look at her and made her own assumptions of whatever hell this strange newcomer had been through. Seven months later, she had her own little apartment above the diner, a space she'd put hours into cleaning up and decorated bit by bit.

It's not an amazing life by most standards, but to her... Waking up every morning to the sun shining in the sky and people who have no idea who she is? It's perfect. ]