narrative
In a haste, an overnight bag was packed. She'd left a note to say that she was headed out, that she was safe, to even extend an invitation to her destination. She'd given it several hours, to make sure there would be no missed opportunity, thanks to unfortunate timing. But after having plenty of time for her to think things over, she made a decision. So, with her bag slung over her shoulder, a katana handle sticking out of the side, she loaded up in her car and drove, not looking back.

The things that had happened in her life recently were all for a reason, she'd gathered. Good or bad, shocking or otherwise, life-threatening and boring, it was all for a purpose. She'd spent more time in her own head than with anyone else, and more recently she'd spent a little time in the heads of others. She didn't dare try to read the mind of anyone she actually cared about; they all knew the feeling when she was poking around in there. She knew it felt tingly; like soft, gloved fingertips were swiping at the insides of their skull to see what kind of dust she could find. She knew, because she'd felt it herself before. All the mental voices she'd learnt to block out for years, and she was still trying to regain the mental strength of blocking it when she needed to. However, the mental pictures were, at times, entertaining. Still, she had to get away and go somewhere familiar, while at the same time close. Close enough in case something were to happen like last time, so she could come help. But, far enough away from other minds. Far enough away to not endanger anyone else in case she would get possessed again.

She couldn't see that happening once more, but stranger things had happened. Still, with the unseasonably tolerable temperature outside, she drove with the windows down as she weighed the consequences of what she was doing. It wasn't as though she was putting anyone else in harm's way; on the contrary, tucking away was safer. If anyone needed her, she knew she could call someone very familiar and have instant transport, within a blink. The sounds of Sia filtering through the speakers of her car as she took the highway were comforting, like a soft blanket. Good times and bad, it had always been there for her, and it only felt fitting that she had the tunes blasting as she drove upstate, toward the only other home Betsy had ever known.

It was dark by the time she arrived, and she'd had plenty of time to be in her own head. Two minds' worth of thoughts were bouncing around in there, and anymore she couldn't keep track of either. She'd had the privilege of helping out an old friend--well, more than that--yet she hadn't taken the opportunity to tell him everything. It was a lot at once, what he was going through, and someone who'd just discovered they had a second life, a second identity, superhero powers and mutations... that was enough for one day. She hadn't had the heart to tell him that she still knew who she was, all the time. As her powers came and went like the rise and fall of the tide, her identity remained, along with at least one power. She was thankful she had that much, though of all things to retain... she almost wished she hadn't been able to see the future.

The future scared her. It was full of darkness--it was hard to tell what would be coming. She'd told a few, those that wouldn't think her a loony, that she'd dreamt about bad things, dark things. The weight of death pulled her down, and it wasn't the deaths she'd caused before. It was future death...deaths...possibly her own. Or someone she loved. She couldn't tell the difference, and it scared her. The only ones her heart saw on an equal level of herself, were those she loved the most. She'd already seen many people in her life come and go, live and die; she didn't have many left. She could deal with dying...she'd done it before. But she couldn't take the death of someone else. If she had to, she'd throw herself in front of anyone before having to bury them.

The mansion was cold and dark, but yet warm in her heart. She wasn't sure if anyone else was even there...it was expansive enough that she could spend days before running into anyone. She entered her room, her old bedroom that she'd spent years in, both as a struggling mutant and a mentor, and immediately felt more at home there than anywhere. Her bag was dropped to the floor as a sigh escaped her, and she flopped down backwards on the bed, her legs dangling off the end. The mental signature of thoughts and dreams that had been left behind on that bed and pillow begun to seep into her as if she were laying in a puddle of memories. Oh, Bets, she thought to herself. If you only knew. She let her eyes close, getting swept up in the current of sleep, taking the chance of having another dream about being a puppet...about suffocating...about dying.