Plagiarist
Chapter 6
by
SelinaSeo
(Note from the Archivist: English is not the authors first language. So be kind.)
The quite morning was disturbed with the sound of a truck going along the road leaving a cloud of dust behind it.
Logan was rolling the idea in his mind once and once again. She absorbed his features, his character; it was too obvious to deny and made it possible to assume that she could copy the other people this way to. . . he shrugged. Every month, every damn thirty days she was changing completely taking in all their kindness and evilness, likes and dislikes, attitudes. . . That's why she lost her friends. That's why her mom nearly stacked her into mental hospital. Of course, such complete changes of character didn't look normal to anyone. Stop! What if they are not complete? What if Amanda mimics only those features that lie on the surface? It's possible, so why not? He threw a glance in her direction -- the girl was sitting motionless, staring on the road in front of the truck deep in her own thoughts. * She doesn't register any changes except physical ones. If I want to carry her to the mansion -- and I have to do it one way or another -- I'll have to pretend that nothing special happened, behave as if everything is ok so she'll feel free; and I'll have an opportunity to define exactly how deep her plagia-pull has gone and did she change completely or not. Oh God, let it be anything but not a complete change! *
* He doesn't trust me. He found in my behavior something that disturbs him and he wants to find out what it is and what it was caused with, perhaps. He said I copy people's characters. How foolish! Isn't good even as a joke. Besides, he promised answers and it seems like he's not going to give them. And that mansion. . . His friends -- who are they? What do they want to do to me? Will I be able to escape if something goes wrong? Escape now? But he's got the answers. . . . the mansion -- cozy place. . . friends -- closest of all that can ever exist. . . silk long-sleeved gloves. . . black scarf around tender neck. . . cold hands on bare skin. . . stay away from my girl. . . with a hard mental effort she stopped the waterfall of thoughts that suddenly streamed into her mind. It always happened after the pulls: twirl of strange memories and images flooding her head. From her childhood, from the first plagia-pull it happened and it wasn't surprising her for a long time already. It was normal: a pull -- and weird pictures in mind soon after it. The thing is to suppress them until they overwhelm you and you don't know any more what is yours and what isn't. She learned it pretty quickly and the problem was solved. Just some unpleasant moments while they try to get the upper hand in you -- and nothing more. Her thoughts returned to her fellow-traveler. The only thing she wanted from him was to let her escape -- but he won't let her. She felt it with her every cell with that strange knowledge she couldn't explain but couldn't deny. The one that comes before the voice. The man next to her was like a book that was closed and locked. But now the lock was undone, the book opened and she managed to read several words there <not to let her g. . . she's dangerous. . . > So that's what he's thinking! I'm dangerous and he should look after me so I won't do something awful! O-key. . . let's make a little theatre. What did he tell -- "you were more or less calm person"? Nice safe little girl? Let's play it and go my best so he'll leave me alone as soon as he's not going to tell me much!
For some time they both kept silence when Amanda spoke in a quite but clear voice, avoiding to look at Logan "I'm sorry." Deep regret, sharp guilt and caustic disgust were mixed there and Logan couldn't resist the wish to look at her. Big hazel eyes were looking at him exactly as they did before. As if there was no struggle and no hard explanations when each word was lie or at least half-true. * Maybe I'd mistaken? * he thought hopefully and muttered as if being still angry "Does it happen often? I mean your rushing at people." She shrugged her shoulders "Sometimes. Once while working in a hotel I had a plagia-pull. The next day I was fired, and you know why? Only because of that little fight with a rocker! It was his fault; won't do nasty things anymore. But it happened only once" she added quickly, perhaps even too quickly. Anyway, it perfectly stacked into a nice story called <I'm little girl whose only crime was a slap in someone's ugly face>. * Shift the theme now! Keep talking. . . no topics to talk about? Impossible* the thoughts ran through her mind until she picked up one. "And once I've copied my classmate Syntia. Luck again -- she wasn't quite healthy and abrupt losing consciousness didn't surprised her much. I had to color my hair 'cos she was naturally blond and she'ld think I'm plagiarizing. . . I mean the real meaning of the word." She laughed. "I wanted to be sure weather she really didn't suspect me, so I got closer with her. And you know, she appeared to be so nice person! We didn't talk much before and I knew her quite breathily, and that day I understood how much I've lost. She was perfect and it wasn't a surprise when we became the best friends soon. Once I came to her home -- her room was amazing! Everything in the mess, but you always can find the thing you need. Sometimes I did it even faster than she did, as it was with "Back Street Boys" CD. Do you know those guys? They're cool! Just as their songs. Do you like them?" "Never heard actually" Logan muttered being more interested in clearing this insanely twisted situation than in all bands in the world. "I'll bring the disk now!" she leaped on her feet and sneaked inside the truck where her bag was. * I'm getting bored with that <little girl> role. . . Fucking shit! I have THOUSANDS OF THOUSANDS QUESTIONS and I need answers badly! What is he thinking of, that stupid bastard?! Does he think it's possible to drag me somewhere without so much as a slight explanation? Shit, shit, shit!* She took a deep breath. It's wrong time for questions now. He's on alert and you should make him relax -- remember. You're going in some mansion with him, you have no idea what will it be there -- so try your best and make him your friend. It's your only way, girl. . . There's one more, though. To run. Now. To leap out of the truck -- healing factor will help -- and escape. Sounds nice. <He won't let you escape> the voice whispered. It was coming from the deepest part of her mind she never dared to enter. It was always there, after every pull. As if somebody was talking to her, somebody but not she. The first time when it happened she was scared. The first time. . . it was so long ago that it seems like it never happened at all. She used to it now. Learned how to suppress that voice -- and pictures. Various pictures of someone's life flooding the mind, crushing like a waterfall until you don't know anymore who you are and what did happen with you and what didn't. It always terrified her. * What if I dissolve there and won't find the way back? * The thought crushed through her exploding brain every time when she started loosing her identity. And it was the only thing that put her together and forced to concentrate and stack the images deep into her mind. Right where the voice was coming from. The voice that never lied. <He won't let you escape>. So he really won't. Okay. . . so there's nowhere no run. *. . . I have no place to g. . . where's it from? Back Street Boys? Oh, shit! I said I'd bring the disk for him to listen to!* She leaped to the bag and rooted there a bit until she found what she was looking for. Amanda sneaked back into the cabin and put the disk into a built-in CD-player. "Now listen to THIS!" she smirked with satisfaction and pressed <play>. Music filled the air and Logan involuntary twisted his nose in disgust. Stuff like this always made him bored. However, the girl also didn't seem to enjoy the song. She frowned titling her head slightly to the side and then stopped the disk. "Hmm. . . it looks like I'm sick of this CD" she shrugged her shoulders and took the disk out putting it into the box. "I'll better look weather I have something else to listen to." The moment she got inside the truck again, pleasant feeling of something close and almost private hit her. It wasn't just cozy place here anymore. It was something special and unique. Here she could easily find anything she wanted, here she felt sheltered. Here was her home. It felt like meeting an old friend you haven't seen for ages. Amanda smiled to the weird but nevertheless so pleasant feeling and then pushed it away roughly. No time for it. Maybe later. She looked back checking weather Logan was watching her, and then knelt above his jacket that was still lying on the floor. Careful so leather wouldn't make a sound she unrolled it and searched through the pockets. * Don't forget about his extra-hearing. Make it as if you're rooting it your bad *. It was risky and she knew it perfectly. However she also knew that she needed facts for support. The driver license was there. The girl threw a glance over her shoulder and then opened it quickly. <Logan Smith. . . 23/11/1964. . . Canadian> Okay, let it be. She stacked the license back in the pocket and rolled jacket quickly placing it where it was, leaving no evidences of her intrusion.
Logan heard her taking his jacket and looking for something there. A smile curled his lips slightly. *False documents won't help you, girlie. However, I don't have true ones. * Amanda returned and fell heavily on the seat "Nah, I have nothing else to listen to. But I don't feel like listening this, do you?" He shook his head grinning to her. Nice and friendly. Time to start questioning. * Careful, Amanda! Don't push too hard -- just guide the conversation * "I don't like this style as long as I remember myself" he said with a half-smile playing on his lips. "And how long do you remember yourself?" she teased. The smile faded being replaced with a deadly serious look. He turned his head to the road again. "Long enough" he spat after a long pause. Amanda cursed herself again and again. The plan was perfect -- and she had just spoiled everything she had put so much efforts to with one stupid question. Foolish girl! Okay, swears later -- and now one more try. "By the way, what did you do before joining X-men?" He got even more serious. She forced her best smile to shine on her face. "Oh, I mean if you have sclerosis or any other problems of this kind, I don't insist. . . " Her voice faded when she saw him squeezing the wheel so hard that his knuckles got white. She spoiled everything. Everything. Shit! All efforts in vain! <His bad mood is now for long> the voice from deep of her soul whispered, but she didn't pay much attention to it. Bad mood? I'll show him bad mood! Really bad! She couldn't restrain herself any longer and the explosion followed. "I know your' not fond of me, bub, and you never was! If you don' wanna see my ugly face her' , just STOP this damn truck and I'll leave immediately! Or if you don' wanna talk t' me, just SAY it and I'll shut up forever and won't disturb you anymore!" She stopped and bit down into her lower lip half in realization of possible consequences of her speech, half not to continue. Logan didn't turn to her and it looked like he didn't react at all. Only his knuckles on the wheel got even whiter. "I don't want to talk to you" he replied in a low voice with a noticeable vibration of growl, pointing out each word. She stunned for a moment until the words sank into her mind, then she leaped on her feet and paced into the truck irritably. He heard her pacing inside, and a heavy crack when she threw herself on the bed. After a minute of using all his restraint skills, Logan managed to suppress the rage she awoke in him. He looked back slightly so Amanda won't notice, to see her lying stretched on her back with her palms under her hear. * It's my pose. . . * he thought and an insane smile started forming on his lips * Last night she curled on a side in a ball. . . All her childishness today wasn't real. . . she pretended it for whatever reason and now she let herself g. . . * It was so painful to realize the last shade of his hope vanished. He felt as if all that - his truck, the girl and he himself -- were a part of some nightmare. A crazy dream he couldn't awake from. A crazy dream that is too weird to handle.
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