THE CALL OF HER

14.5

August 5th, 2015 

Her hands grasp at the gun wound, sprinting through the forest with bullets flying past her. Tears sting her eyes, but the bullet in her stomach burns worse.

"Get back here!" One of the men shout, firing another round. 

There is no buzzing in her head, no presence. He isn't here.

She sucks in breaths through her barred teeth, eyes searching the wall of the mountain for crevices to crawl into. Blood seeps over her fingers, hardening every second only to be wettened again with a constant drip.

Directing herself closer to the wall, she pleads for safety. A dark gap opens ahead, making her speed pick up. She quickly turns into it, and crawls as deep as she can go. Her knees caked with dust and hand wet with blood and mud, she continues deeper into the cave.

Grunts and moans escape her mouth as she stops where she can't see anything, her head spins as her vision is corrupted.

"Fuck," She gasps, digging her finger into the hole to grab the bullet. She cannot feel it, it is simply to deep. "I can't die now." She closes her eyes, resting her head against the stone wall behind her.

Soon, breaths join the cave that aren't hers. At the realization of this, her ears perk up to listen.

"What's your name?" A gravely voice asks, the scent of foul matter swoops into her nostrils.

"Rogue." She whispers.

"One of his?" The being crawls closer, to get a better look of Rogue. 

"Yes, but not for long." Her responses are quiet, trying to waste her oxygen on nonsense.

"Why?" It is like a child. Rumbling began to sound from far in the cave, like a trucks.

"What is your name?" Rogue asks, turning to where she thinks it is crouched. A breeze pushes through the cave, although a passage way for the simple gust of air is not present.

"Ted, I'm a caver." The man said with pride.

"Why are you in here?" She takes in a deep breath.

With her eyes adjusting, she can sense him looking down. "I am exploring Floyds Tomb, my buddy B is over there." Ted points left of Rogue, where she can barely make out several lines of white on the ground.

She scoots closer to the white lines, and her eyes widen. Bones are littered on the ground, matted clothes stick even to their frail structures. 

"Oh..." She looses her will to speak.

"Brad's not much of a talker, ever since he went into the tomb alone." Ted mutters, adjusting himself to sit against the wall across from Rogue. 

"Why is he out here, then, if he went into the tomb?" She tilts her head.

"I dragged him out, and saved him." Ted's voice begins to grow closer. "But ever since I saw him before going in, he hasn't said a word. It makes me feel kind of bad."

He will say that about me, when others come to talk to him. He will point to my bones, and say I'm not much of a talker, because in all reality I am dead. But I am okay with accompanying him, leaving my body to be a reminder of life and my voice a physical reminisces of an imaginary friend, is what goes through Rogues mind.

"I'm not much of," She winces. "A talker, either." Her eyes closed, hands shaking. "My sons, though," A small smile lines her lips. "They always find ways to let their voices into my mind." 

"You have children? I thought proxy's weren't aloud to have any?" Ted tilts his head.

"When I was nine months pregnant with my first baby, he disowned me," Rogue remembers the pain. "And made sure I remembered him, by causing a miscarriage." 

"But, I paid the price and I now have two sons with a good father." She rubs her stomach, smearing blood on her dirty shirt. She bites down on her bottom lip, feeling her tears flow harder. 

"I bet you were a good mom." Ted says, the only thing he can think of to calm Rogue.

Tears slip from her eyelashes, onto her bruised face.

 "Oh, I was." She whispers.