Survivor (Charles Xavier)

1

The blue hues of the night sky shined down on Lauren. It was another nice night in England, having finished her classes. It was finally the time to celebrate. She toyed with the idea of staying at home, in the comfortable walls of her small apartment, drinking warm tea and reading a book. But she knew that this achievement, the achievement of surviving 17 years of schooling, deserved a better flaunt.

So she got dressed. She took a warm bath, scrubbing herself clean, and prepared herself. She put on a navy blue dress, deciding to match it with the black shoes she bought two days ago. She tied her hair in a simple bun, put on her shoes, took her purse, and left.

Walking in the night was terrifying, with the possible kidnapping or murder. But she paid it no mind, instead she kept walking on. What a mistake.

"Ma'am, you seem to have dropped this." A man said from the darkness. Lauren turned around, giving him a smile, before she was knocked out by a blunt force to the back.

♧♧

"Ah, terrific. You're awake." A smooth, silky voice purred. Her vision blurred, as she looked up and observed her captor. She knew him not. She struggled against her bindings, as he tsked.

"Ah, ah, ah. No, sweet sparrow, you don't touch that." The captor said, a twisted grin playing on his lips. She looked up in horror.

"What do you want from me?!" She screamed, stopping herself from lashing out. She didn't know why she stopped herself, yet the eerily calm voice in her head told her to stop and listen to what he wants.

"Oh, what I want?" Her captor said. "I want to touch you, to grope you, to defile you, to fuck you."

"But that can wait. I have a more, ahem, professional plan in my head." Her captor said as Lauren shook in fear. "See you tomorrow, sweet sparrow."

And the door shut as Lauren cried silent tears.

♧♧

"Good morning, sweet sparrow!" Her captor yelled dramatically. She woke up with a jolt, looking up to her kidnapper.

"It is time to begin our first experiment." The captor announced. Before she could squirm or reply, he picked up a futuristic looking needle, stabbing her neck with it as he realeased the fluids into her veins. The blue fluids seeped into her body, as she gasped and shook violently. She felt adrenaline pump through her veins as she shook more violently, and as though something triggered her strength, she broke free of her binds.

She breathed heavily, screaming. Her captor fell to the floor, looking up in amazement.

"Magnificent! Beautiful! Oh sweet sparrow, you're--" The captor was cut off as she smashed his face into the ground, blood smearing on the floor. And the captor was no more. She calmed down, not freaked out by the fact that she had committed murder, rather feeling better. She wiped the blood off her hands, changed into the captor's untouched clothes, and ran from the facility.

Shortly thereafter, she changed her identity. She was simply Lauren Willows. She left her past forgotten.

And the story was that Lauren Hawforth, 21, died of a kidnapping in July 30, 1863.