My Morphine [Wade Wilson]

My Morphine [Wade Wilson] [Completed}

It was summer, one of those days that weren't too hot, but warm with a nice breeze. "What am I doing here?" I thought to myself. Bryson was playing in the yard, by himself. He looked so sad, pushing his ball around in the shade of a tall oak.

I glanced down at the photograph in my hands. A mother and father smiling behind they're two children; a boy and a teenage girl. They seemed so happy, what you wouldn't see in that photo are the tears, the screaming, and fighting. Being shoved out the door and told that you were no longer welcome here because you're a freak. You're ten year old brother crying, trying to reach out to you, being held back by a mother that couldn't even look you in the eyes. Leaving without a word, just the thoughts of where you're going to go now, how will you move on, who will accept you. . .you have no home now. You wouldn't see that in this picture, but thats how my life went before anyone found out.

I glanced back up to the house I once called my home, Camile; the woman I used to call my mother had glanced out the window. I thought she saw me for a moment, but she put her eyes down and let the shades fall closed again. I sighed, tore the picture to pieces dropping it out of my window, put the car in drive, and left again. I knew not to go back, I always tell myself the same thing; "It won't change anything. It'll only hurt more." but for some reason, I visit there once every two months. I miss Bryson, I feel like I've let him down by not fighting back, by not staying, or taking him with me. He deserves better than a drunk father, and a mother that doesn't even seem to see him now. Probably guilt stricken for kicking out her seventeen year old daughter, all because she was a little different. I reached into my bag, grabbed a cigarette, a briefe shot of warmth, a long drag ehaling the calming smoke. I don't pity her, I hope she dies of griefe by it. I didn't ask to be different, if anything she should blame that bastard that she stands so faithfully by. Only the males carry the gene. Thats something I learned on my own, studying and trying to figure exactly what I was. . .If I could change it. I thought maybe I would be able to go home, and live as if it never happened. It wasn't until I turned nineteen that I realised, I could never go back, things would never change. People like me, all over the world were being shunned and hated, all because they were a little different. Somehow, I would find my own place in the world, no matter what it meant. With people that accepted and cared for me, no matter how strange or "abnormal" I was.

My name is Blyss lynn Varner, and I am a mutant.

I didn't know what I was for the first years of my life, there wasn't even any sign until about fourteen. My mother always told me I was a fast healer, whenever I would skin my knee, or get injured. Soon, I wasn't even able to sustain any injuries for more than 30 seconds. That was the first sign that I was...different. My parents wrote if off as soom act of luck, then other things started to happen. When I was sixteen, I started smoking. Not one of my better habits I admitt. I was behind my garage, with a boy named Tony who was my age. He had stolen a pack of cigarettes from his father and we were sharing. It wasn't until an older, more bully-like guy named Justin started coming over and stealing our smokes. Tony tried to tell him to piss off, but Justin was much stronger. He shoved Tony into a pile of wood my father had chopped, made him slice his hand open. Justin turned his sights to me, I was already pissed, and began egging me on, teasing me about being so wierd. Suddenly, it seemed like the flame from the cherry onmy cigarette, jumped on its own, and burned him across his cheek. He screamed "Freak!" and ran off. Tony even gave me a strange look before he ran home. I was in shock, i sat down and looked at the cherry again. I don't know what compelled me to do so, but I laid the cigarette in my open palm, it didn't burn. In fact, a flame sparked from the cherry and it just seemed to dance in my hand. i started playing with fire more and more, and that same year, despite all the gossip around town. I came out and told my parents about my abilities, thinking they would support me, and help me work through it. You see how that turned out for me.

Now here I am, standing in line at starbucks, waiting for coffee, just like anyother normal person would do. No one even looked up at me. Why would they? Unless I flipped shit and decided to burn the place down, I seemed like everyone else here. I ordered and went back outside, I could hear screaming and the roar of an angry crowd of people down the street. I didn't pay any mind to it, it didn't involve me.

Just then a man came running around the corner, I looked up just in time to get knocked to the ground, spilling my coffee all over my chest, and the stranger that had so rudely interupted my inner monologue. [I know, its riveting] He grabbed my hand, jerking me back to my feet a little rough.

"Hey!" I yelled pulling my arm away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

He rolled his eyes, then roar of anger reached my ears again and he seemed to panic. "Which car is yours?!" He began dragging me across the street.

"Why should I tell you?!" I asked incredulously.

He turned back around, his muscles were deffinately a sweet piece of eye candy. [but i pushed that from my mind because I'm not phased by things like that. . . .you buying that? No? Good, because I'm a sucker for a nice body]

"Hear that?" He asked. I paused, they were deffinatly getting closer, and they sounded pissed. "They're coming for me, it would be really great if you would give me a lift." he said a little more calm, and flashing a smile.

"I don't even know you," I began "You could be some creep and try to do things to me..."

He gave me a wierd look. "Do I look creepy?" He shook his head "That doesn't matter right now, just please?" He asked.

I sighed. "Its the red corvette." I said throwing my coffee aside and running to my car with him. He got in and I just looked at him.

"What are you doing?! Lets go!" He yelled.

"...seatbelt..." I said.

"Seriously?!" I nodded. He huffed "Fine!" He clicked his seat belt in. "there! Can we g..." He was cut off when I hit the gas and we were off. [Speed limits aren't my thing.] He laughed out loud as the crowd was visable in my rear view window. "Yeah!" He yelle dout the window. "Best wishes bitch!" And he rolled the window up sitting the right way in the seat again. "Wade Wilson." He said shaking my hand.

I laughed. "Blyss Varner." We were driving at least an hour before we decided to stop and take a break from all this excitement.

Thats when my story really begins. In the next two weeks, my life would be 100% different. Wade Wilson, is the beginning.