Dear Logan,

Please come back. Please. Just so I can see the look on your face as I rip your skin off. You'd stay still for it, too, wouldn't you? Martyr yourself to my anger. My pain. You've been gone for a few months now. Not a word I've heard from you, Oh Great Protector. Yet, in the lab-coat pocket of one Dr. Jean Grey rides another letter from you. Not just a postcard, or a quick note, but a fucking novel. At least half-an-inch thick. All those pages, all those words and not one fucking hello for me. Tell you what, bub. You come on home, I'll show you who needs protecting.

I could kill her, you know. She wouldn't even suspect it. She'd be walking down the hall, in the lab-coat she's wearing now. Impossibly high heels clicking staccato with each step. Probably have her reading glasses on. Glasses for the love of God! You're a dirty bird, Logan. Those fantasies, in the library with nothing but books and those damned glasses.

She tears the hole up even wider
It's all the darkness up inside her
I never wanted to feel this way. I didn't ask for this. You took what little I had and left me this. You stole death from me. Maybe I could steal it from her. I have a knife, you know, I lifted it from the kitchen. It was horribly dull when I started, but you know how to sharpen blades, you showed me. Wouldn't that be justice? Or is it karma? Do you think she'd scream, Logan? If I wasn't fast enough, that is. Or would she stagger back and clutch her throat? I think there'd be a couple heel clicks to break her rhythm, and she'd look over at me with those big cow-eyes and ask why. Well, she'd try to anyway, mostly just gurgle a bit before she'd realize she can't breathe. Not with her throat smiling at me with red, red lips. Part of you likes that, that idea. The smell of fear, blood, her and her swan song. How fucking romantic of you. But you know what, when she'd turn and look, her life spilling out between her perfectly manicured fingers, you know what she'd see? Not me, not little Marie. She'd see you. Her last moments would be filled with astonishment. She wouldn't be able to wrap her mind around it. All this time she'd played you like a fire, and you burned for her. You shouldn't have brought me here, Logan.

You shouldn't have brought me back.

                         Love,
                         Marie