𝟓 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 

Rory had always felt like she was different. Growing up, she'd often sensed things that others didn't, felt emotions that weren't hers, and noticed how reality seemed to shimmer around the edges when she was particularly upset or afraid. But like any teenager trying to fit in, she brushed it off as her imagination playing tricks on her, convincing herself that she was just seeing what she wanted to see.

It wasn't until a quiet afternoon in her small, cluttered bedroom that Rory could no longer ignore the truth. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as she stared at herself in the mirror. She had been trying to get ready for a day out with friends, but something felt off. Her reflection was smiling, but her heart was heavy, weighed down by a sense of unease she couldn't quite place.

Rory frowned, and so did the reflection. But then, as she reached up to brush a strand of auburn hair from her face, her reflection didn't move. It just stood there, frozen in that smile. She blinked, and the reflection blinked too, but with a delay that made her stomach twist.

"What the...?" Rory whispered, stepping back from the mirror.

The reflection followed her movement a second too late, as if it was unsure of what it was supposed to do. Rory's heart began to race, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself, to convince herself that she was just tired, or stressed, or any number of things that made more sense than what she was seeing.

When she opened her eyes again, her reflection was moving normally. She breathed a sigh of relief, chalking it up to nerves. But just as she was about to turn away, the reflection winked at her. Rory hadn't winked. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took another step back, bumping into her dresser with a jarring thud.

"Okay, this isn't funny," she said aloud, though no one else was in the room. Her voice was shaky, but she needed to hear it, needed to feel grounded in some way.

The reflection smiled wider, its eyes glittering with something that Rory didn't recognize. It wasn't the friendly, familiar face she was used to seeing in the mirror every day. This face was sly, mischievous, like it was playing a game only it knew the rules to.

"Stop it," she commanded, her voice stronger now, though her hands were trembling.

The reflection tilted its head, as if considering her request. Then, slowly, it began to change. Rory watched in horror as the reflection morphed into something else entirely. The features blurred, the hair darkened, the eyes—her eyes—shifted into a deep, unsettling shade of red. The mirror-Rory looked nothing like her anymore; it was a stranger staring back at her, a twisted version of herself that didn't belong.

Panic surged through Rory, and without thinking, she raised her hand to the mirror as if to push the image away. The moment her fingers touched the glass, the reflection shattered—not into pieces, but into smoke, swirling and coiling before dissolving into thin air.

Rory gasped, stumbling backward and falling onto her bed. She sat there, stunned, staring at the now-empty mirror. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced to make sense of what had just happened. But deep down, she knew. This wasn't her imagination. This was real. And it wasn't just the mirror.

She looked around her room, eyes wide, noticing the way the shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should, the way the colors of the walls and furniture looked slightly off, like a painting that had been left out in the rain. The air felt thick, almost tangible, as if she could reach out and mold it with her hands.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. She couldn't afford to fall apart now, not when everything she thought she knew was unraveling before her.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered to herself, needing to hear it out loud. "I'm not crazy."

But even as she said it, she wasn't sure if she believed it. Something inside her had changed, something that had been dormant, waiting for the right moment to awaken. And now that it was awake, she had no idea how to control it, or what it meant for her.

Rory took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand. She needed to get out of the room, out of the house, away from everything familiar that suddenly felt so alien. She grabbed her jacket and bolted for the door, not bothering to look back at the mirror, afraid of what she might see if she did.

As she ran down the stairs and out the front door, the world around her seemed to twist and warp, colors bleeding into one another, shapes shifting in the corners of her vision. She stumbled but kept going, her feet pounding against the pavement as she tried to outrun the terror that was building inside her.

But no matter how far she ran, she couldn't escape the truth. This wasn't just some strange hallucination. This was her. This was a part of her that she had never known existed, a part that could bend reality to its will, that could make the impossible possible.

-------

Rory sprinted through the streets, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the world around her continued to distort. She could feel the weight of it pressing in, the strangeness coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like she would snap. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to keep moving. But no matter how fast or far she ran, the unsettling sensations remained with her. Colors still bled, shadows stretched in impossible ways, and the fear clawed at her chest.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. The warping street ahead seemed to bend into a narrow alleyway, but the light here felt different, clearer, almost inviting. A figure stood at the other end, tall and composed, as if waiting for her.

He was an older man, with a bald head and a kind, knowing expression. His presence seemed to radiate calm, in difference to the chaos Rory had been drowning in. As she cautiously approached, something about him felt familiar, like she'd known him all along, though she couldn't explain why.

"Rory," the man said gently, his voice steady and soothing. "It's alright. You don't have to run anymore."

She froze, her heart still pounding. How did he know her name? Was this another trick, another distortion in her unraveling world?

"I'm Charles Xavier," he continued, as if sensing her hesitation. "I've been watching you for some time now, waiting for this moment. You're not imagining things, and you're not losing your mind. You're gifted, Rory. Like me."

Rory blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Gifted? Like you?" She shook her head, taking a step back. "I don't understand. What's happening to me?"

"You have abilities," Xavier explained, his tone patient. "Powerful abilities that are beginning to manifest. You've always felt different, haven't you? Sensed things that others couldn't. What you saw in the mirror wasn't just a reflection—it was a glimpse of your power trying to break through."

Rory swallowed hard. "But... I don't want it. I don't want any of this! It's terrifying, and I can't control it!"

Xavier took a step closer, his gaze full of compassion. "I understand how frightening it must be, but you're not alone. There are others like you—people who were once just as lost and scared, who've learned to harness their abilities for good. I can help you, Rory. I can teach you to control it, to understand it."

She stared at him, torn between wanting to believe his words and the overwhelming fear still gnawing at her. The idea that this strange power was a part of her—that it had always been there—was terrifying. But so was the idea of living in a world where reality was slipping through her fingers.

"How can you help me?" Rory asked quietly, her voice laced with desperation. "How can anyone fix this?"

Xavier smiled gently. "You're stronger than you know. You just need guidance. A place where you can be yourself, where you won't have to hide or be afraid."

Rory hesitated, her mind racing. Could she really trust this man? But as she stood there, staring into his calm, steady eyes, something inside her began to settle. Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to find some sense of control in the chaos.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'll come with you."