Rogue glanced back at Steve and her heart ached at the pain etched in his expression. She had done that to him. She was still doing it, by being a broken mess who couldn't stop falling apart. Was this why her friends had abandoned her? Had she always been this much of a hopeless burden? Maybe she was wrong to be angry with them for leaving her in that hell.
She should leave, she told herself. She should get up, take her things, and go. He didn't need her to mess up his life more than already had. Marie LeBeau was a walking disaster, a murderer with so much blood on her hands that she was drowning in it. And he was a good man.
"This is wrong," she whispered, mostly to herself, with wide distressed eyes. "I can't... You shouldn't have to..." She scrubbed her hands over her face before threading her fingers through her hair and tugging at it, her knees coming up to her chest as she sat at the very edge of the bed.
"What are we doing?" she continued in that strained whisper, tears still staining her cheeks and soaking into the collar of his t-shirt that she wore. "This isn't going to work. I'm going to hurt you the way I hurt them. I'm a monster, I don't get to be with an angel."
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She should leave, she told herself. She should get up, take her things, and go. He didn't need her to mess up his life more than already had. Marie LeBeau was a walking disaster, a murderer with so much blood on her hands that she was drowning in it. And he was a good man.
"This is wrong," she whispered, mostly to herself, with wide distressed eyes. "I can't... You shouldn't have to..." She scrubbed her hands over her face before threading her fingers through her hair and tugging at it, her knees coming up to her chest as she sat at the very edge of the bed.
"What are we doing?" she continued in that strained whisper, tears still staining her cheeks and soaking into the collar of his t-shirt that she wore. "This isn't going to work. I'm going to hurt you the way I hurt them. I'm a monster, I don't get to be with an angel."