Counseling 101: Talk about your exorcism (Agnes)

The day had gone by rather well. She slept well, for once didn’t have any nightmares, and even managed to wake up to see that Gina was already gone for the day. It was not that she had a problem with Gina, it was just good to have a morning to herself. So she managed to get herself up in a rather good mood, even despite everything that had happened in that training session the other day. That Gawain kid had really put her through the wringer to the point that she was still finding sore parts on her body. Those zombies had just been illusions, but that did not mean they still did not pack quite a punch.

But of course her mind fluttered back to the incident at the end. Gawain, out of concern, was checking her for wounds when he found her scars. They were evidences of a past life that frankly she wanted no one to know about…yet he stumbled upon it.

So far it did not seem like he had told anyone, and she was thankful for that. She would hate to have to explain to some adult that night again. All she wanted was the peace and quiet to simply forget the whole thing. Agnes knew though that if an adult, for any reason, found out about it, she would never get any peace.

The runaway sighed, freshly out of the shower, as she stood in front of the foggy mirror in her bathroom, reached out and gently wiped clean the reflective surface. She steeled herself up as she wiped more away and actually stared at her own bare flesh. Over her thin, pale skinned framed, her eyes roamed over the roadmap of scars that led to her past. She forced herself to look, letting her eyes glance over the thin cut marks, the lashings…and worst of all, the large crucifix that lay in the direct center of her stomach. They were grotesque to look at, at least to her, and try as she might she could not see past them.

They were a part of her… for the rest of her life.

With a sigh, Agnes continued to dry herself off with a large, fluffy pink towel and tossed it into the hamper. She then took up her clothing for the day, worn out blue jeans and a deep purple long-sleeve shirt, and slowly began to dress…once more hiding those markings from the world. But, just as she was pulling her shirt down over her body…a swift knocking resounded from her door.

>> "Agnes? Can I have a word with you?"

She froze…staring at the open bathroom door and staring at the entrance to her room. That voice sounded familiar and immediately she felt a pang of fear. Why did that voice startle her so much? Who did it belong too? Then, she recalled…the tall, dark-skinned, Amazonian woman, the one who had jumped in during the incident with Faye. What was her job again? Why was she here…?

“Guidance counselor…” she muttered as her memory was finally recalled. Silently she cursed under her breath, vowing that she was going to slug Gawain again the second she saw him, before she then smoothed out her clothes and shouted in reply. “C-Coming! Getting dressed!” she sighed as she began to pace the room, praying that this was about something else. But there was only one way to find out. Steeling herself up once more, she boldly stepped forward, opened the door and smiled slightly the woman in the hall. “Umm, hello. Everything okay?”

>> "Hi…Do you mind if I come in? There are a few things I need to talk to you about."

Yes, actually I DO mind. First of all, who are you to be coming in here and interrupting me during my personal time? Second of all I don’t want to discuss anything that Gawain may or may not have told you. And Third, I really don’t have the time right now. Good bye!

At least that was how Agnes wanted the conversation to go. After all, she had the right to keep her own secrets to herself and to not have to deal with prying counselors. But before the runaway knew it, she was standing to the side, allowing the older woman in and watched helplessly as she took a seat in one of the more comfy chairs in the room. For a second Agnes was confused and wondered how the woman had done that. Maybe she had mind manipulating powers after all.

Agnes sighed a bit heavily as she watched the woman take the seat, looking just as calm as ever, as if they were going to be discussing a movie or a book. But Agnes knew better. She knew that she had been ratted out.

I’m so blacking out his other eye, she thought to herself as she closed the door softly behind her.

The runaway watched the woman carefully. She definitely seemed like the motherly, caring type but at the same time, she was a woman who obviously was stubborn and never took no for an answer. Agnes could already foresee that she was going to have a lot of difficulty with her. If she were really here about her scars, then she had no doubt that the woman would not leave her be. Maybe if she could think of something…anything that could distract her from that subject…but so far nothing was coming to mind.

She grumbled mentally to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to the other chair that was across from the woman. Agnes attempted to keep her face blank, to show no hint how she was feeling about the woman’s access into her room or that fact that he had a pretty good idea what was coming. Instead she quietly sat down, crossed her legs and sat back a little in her chair.

Eyes staring straight ahead at the Amazonian woman, Agnes finally spoke…hoping to throw off the conversation…

“So, when do you think is an appropriate age for a young woman such as myself to start exploring making love?”

Immediately her cheeks flushed but she had to hold strong. There had to be a way to derail the conversation…

>> "You mean sex? Well, it depends on who the guy is. The age of consent in this state is supposed to be seventeen, but I for one would have broken the arm of any guy touching my daughter when she was seventeen years old.”

Agnes looked away, still embarrassed that she had brought up the subject. As she heard the counselor go into her commentary, obviously not thrown off by her question, the runaway could only grind her teeth thoughtfully. She heard something similar from her own mother about premarital sex; it was a sin, evil, it should only be saved for marriage, etc. Agnes hated hearing that speech over and over again, but it was one that her mother stressed.

She was not only told about the hurt feelings involved…she was also told about how her very soul would be at risk should she ever commit such an act.

>> “Do you have anyone in mind in particular?"

“What?” she asked.

The question had jarred her out of her thoughts as she turned and stared at the woman in shock and surprise. Had she really just asked her that? To be honest it was never a thought that had really crossed her mind since the last time she was in high school. While there she was of course had the occasional thought or two about a fellow teen or a handsome movie star, but it was never something she could outright admit. The thought alone made a blush appear on her overly, yet natural, pale skin.

She suspected that Ms. Taylor wasn’t buying into it, but she had to keep it up. She was going to give up easily.

“Um…in mind…dah…y-yeah. Yeah I know someone,” she struggled to find a name, any name that would do. Then, before she could stop herself, the first name that popped into her mind fell from her lips. “G-Gawain. S-Such a cute…um…person…yeah…Goes to school here. You probably haven’t met him.”

>> "Actually, I have."

*Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* *Expletive deleted!* Damn!

Agnes cursed herself inwardly, over and over and over again. Of course the counselor would know who Gawain was. She was the school frickin’ counselor! That was a stupid move on Agnes’ part, to pull that kid’s name into this conversation that he had nothing to do with. It was not his fault that the counselor was showing concern, after all, she was baring scars of abuse. From what she knew school officials were obligated by law to show concern or their very jobs could be at risk.

Then again…it was Gawain’s fault for telling her in the first place. He should have known better than that after the way she reacted the first them when he attempted to check her for wounds.

Slowly Agnes forced herself to return to the conversation, her gaze going back to the counselor and seeing the look on her face. She could see that the wheels in the woman’s mind were moving fast, putting pieces together, as if trying to figure out some complex puzzle that needed to solved and right now.

Then, if Agnes had been drinking something, she would have spit it out following the next part of the conversation…

>> "Have you two... ahem…Already 'explored' something? Because he seems to know a lot about your physical appearance…He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

…

…

…

It took a second or two for Agnes brain to reboot after that comment. Apparently due to the whole flow of this conversation, Ms. Taylor was attempting to put together that something had already happened between herself and Gawain. If he had gone to her, Agnes could slowly see how that would lead the woman to assume that they already had some sort of relationship or altercation. He knew about her scars, he did have a black eye, and she was acting like she was nervous or smitten by him…

None of this boded well.

She could throw the boy under the bus for telling on her scars though…that would be revenge for that danger room session…then again that was not fair for him. She didn’t want to make him suffer that badly for something he never did.

Finally Agnes addressed the woman’s question.

“No,” she said as she meekly shook her head. “Nothing like that. Just…um…soo want to do stuff to him.”

Break his arm…black out his other eye…a few gut punches…maybe sell his kidney on the black market…

She cleared her throat as she ran her hand over her cheek a little anxiously. She really just wanted to get out of the room now, to get away from this woman, to escape into some place alone where she could just be with her thoughts, or book, or something just to get out of here. She needed her violoin…

Finally she just stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Um…so…we done here?” she asked as she uncrossed her arms and seemed to be tugging down a little at her shirt, as if scared the woman was going to leap across and pull it up to verify her wounds.

>> "No."

Agnes looked defeated by that comment. She really was getting close to the verge of tears because all she wanted to do was to be left alone. Whatever her past was, belonged to her and to her alone! It was no concern of anyone else and she should be able to deem when and to who she gives out information about her past. It was not fair that some stubborn woman, just attempting to be nosey, would attempt to force such information out of her!

Yes…it was safe to say that Agnes was beyond angry now. She wanted the comfort of that buzz and crawling of the swarm to erupt around her, but instead all remained quiet and still as she once more took a seat on the chair across from her.

She had forgotten that this woman had the ability to cancel out her powers. Good thing for her because she doubted she could have controlled the swarm long enough to allow the woman time to escape.

An angry huff and she crossed her legs, once more staring defiantly across from her. Her anger was still boiling…

>> "Look, Agnes. I know these things are incredibly hard to talk about... but I need to know. The only way I can help you, and make sure it doesn't ever happen again, is to know as much as you can tell me. It is my job to have this conversation with you, but if it was only my job, I could just... not care. But I do care. I am here to take care of every kid in the school. Even you…I mean it. We need to talk."

Help…caring…talking…they were all things she heard time and time again and each and every time is just made her seethe. Her parents preached that same bull all the while she was growing up. They announced over and over again that she could “talk” to them, that they “cared” about her, and especially on that last night that they only wanted to “help” her.

Remembering those times immediately just built up on her anxiety as she glared back at the tall, dark skinned woman who sat there, claiming to be there in the name of friendship, love and care! Her own anger was boiling over now, she really was at a loss for what to say to this woman. She was not going away, she was not going to leave her alone, what was she? She acted like some driver rubbernecking at a traffic accident.

Was that it? Did she just want to see the freak that Gawain described?

In anger, Agnes stood, practically tipping over her chair, tears in her eyes.

“What huh? Why don’t you get the hint? This is my past! It is MINE! It has nothing to do with you!” she screamed as she began to pace. “But fine! You want to see the freak?! Here you go!”

She lifted up the bottom have of her shirt, still sniffling, she still at a loss, and still absolutely fuming with boundless anger. Her pale skin looked soft and lovely, it would have been the type of skin that a model or some actress would die for…it if were not for the hideous scars: the large branded crucifix on her stomach, the ritualized cuts here and there, even what looked like whiplash marks. It was as if she were a victim from the Spanish Inquisition, survived today and wandering around modern day New York City.

Still shaking, Agnes dropped her shift, her eyes steely and her lips curled down into an angry growl.

“Your curiosity satisfied? Now leave me the hell alone…”

With that she moved to her door, pulled it open roughly and stepped out into the hall. Unfortunately as soon as she did, she was out of whatever effect that the counselor was having on her. The buzzing exploded from her chest like a thunder beat to the point that Agnes nearly collapsed. She grabbed onto the wall for supported and opened her mouth wide. Before she stop herself, the familiar black cloud of wasps and flies flew from her mouth and buzzed around dangerously while roaches fell and skittered across the carpeted floor. Past that, bugs that were normally in the woodwork of the building began to crawl out as well: water beetles, flies, roaches, every creepy crawly was responding to her anger and the aura, the beacon to all insects she gave off, was even stronger now. She angrily she coughed and sputtered, attempting to calm herself enough to storm off, but the bugs defensive and agitated beyond belief.

The swarm was ready. They were poised and primed to attack the nearest thing that was upsetting Agnes and by all accounts that should have been the tall, dark skinned Ms. Taylor. They buzzed angrily and all pointed towards the woman in a most aggressive way, but the second she stepped close enough for her aura to wash over the collapsing Agnes, the bugs suddenly shifted away. Mindlessly, the confused insects began to disperse, no sense to protect the young woman anymore or attack anyone. Instead they moved on their merry way, climbing onto walls, over knick-knacks, furniture and art.

Agnes on the other hand was at a loss for the moment. She had become so upset that she nearly retched out every single bug in her body, then suddenly none of them were around or defending her. They looked confused and lost, wandering off or skittering away from her fearfully. She had never had that effect on them; then she felt the arms enclose around her.

For the briefest of moments, Agnes wanted to struggle. She wanted to scream out to be left alone, for the woman to just go away and never speak to her again. She wanted her bugs back…

Then the warmth of the arms around her seemed to shattered all her anger and her bitterness towards the world. How long had it been since she was given a real, heartfelt hug? Did she ever get one, even from her own parents? The sad thing was that she really could not recall that fact.

Shaking biting her lip, she tried to hold onto the anger, tried to stay mad, to remember that she was a monster; a monster that spewed insects, who was scarred from head-to-toe in cuts, burns and lashes. She was not supposed to be loved, she was supposed to be pitied and feared and ignored! That is how you survive. No one is supposed to care…

But the first tear fell…rolled down her cheek…and fell onto the ground.

There was no more holding it back after that. Her chest shook and immediately another sound, one that was not a buzzing, but rather a shuddering sob. It came from so deep within her that it had to be one of the most heart-wrenching sounds a human could even produce. Even after she ran away from home, she never cried about what they did to her. She never so much as tried to feel sorry for herself. Instead she buried it, as deep as she could, because one could never show weakness when they lived on the streets. It just was not possible. The second that you showed you were weak, someone would try to exploit that. Even here she felt that, but no…this was different. There was no more holding back.

Before she knew it, tears were free falling out from her corners of her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, seeing only her parents faces behind her closed eyes as she shook from head to toe. Her hands clung, nearly clawing at the woman’s arms that held her. She did not know what it was like to let so much out at one time so she was terrified, terrified of being unable to stop, terrified of showing she was weak, terrified of being a burden on someone else.

Closed eyes as her tense body cradled back into the warm arms of the guidance counselor, Agnes cries grew louder as everything came out. Every whiplash was revisited, every cut remembered…every burn felt again…

And so the teenager could do the only thing she could do, the one thing she should have done since that first night after she left…

She continued to cry…and then she screamed…

There was nothing holding her back anymore. The floodgates were open and Agnes could do nothing to stifle the tears and heartbroken sobs that flew from her lips. She was shaking all over and nothing from the outside world was reaching her ears…save for the gentle, motherly humming the rebounded in her ears. For a moment the girl was confused, why was her mother humming? Her mother never hummed and the few songs she sang were all religious based. But no, after a moment, Agnes realized her mistake. These warm, comforting arms were not her mother’s, but were in fact those of the guidance counselor she had just snapped at.

That made the situation all the worse. The fact that it took a stranger, someone who really seemed to care about her job, to show her the motherly love that her own would not give. It was enough to keep the young runaway clinging and crying against the woman.

Seconds…minutes…hours…days…Agnes did not know how long she was crying and holding the woman, but it was necessary. After burying things so deep, when they finally bubble to the surface, the results tends to be most exhausting and trying.

After time passed, Agnes finally calmed down enough to pull herself away from Gemma, her limbs weak and shaky from so much deep hearted crying. Still shaking as she pulled away, Agnes reached up and wiped the stains off her red, moist cheeks. It was a sore, and raw but it was necessary to make herself stop. There simply were no more tears within her body to come out…and that meant she needed to face what was left…

…the truth.

She moved herself away from Ms. Taylor, her eyes downcast, her head hanging as she stared at the floor. There was nothing else she would have liked more than to just go to bed for a week after that whole crying incident…but she could not do that more. No longer could she hold her tongue. She needed to tell someone what she had gone through…someone other than just Sveta…

“I…I was exorcized…” she hoarsely whispered as she shook again. “M-My parents…t-they believe…all mutants just…demon possessed…” fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she forced herself to swallow them down. “W-When…the bugs came…t-they said I was corrupted. They…they called me a monster! So…one night…them…and their …damn zealot followers…did this…” she whispered and referred to herself, meaning all the marks on her body. “In an attempt to drive out the demon. The demon…they called Pestilence…”

She sighed and took a long, shaky breath as she clenched and unclenched her fists. The memories were flooding into her head and try as she might to forget them, they would not go anywhere. They were a part of her, burned in the mind as the deep as the crucifix on her stomach.

"...the First Horseman...they were trying to save the world..."