1. see the husband that you parted with on the television set -- only he's not alone. he has his arm around the woman that you resemble, smiling and proclaiming their love for everyone. remember that you have been suffering for months on end: your identity has been erased, your son taken from you, your home eradicated, targeted for assassination, your memory lost and found, and you sacrificed yourself with a group of people who value you more than he has.

see your husband on screen with the woman he's always wanted and be filled with rage. so much rage that it blinds you, your curl your hand into a fist and you plunge it right through their smiling faces.

there's a thunderclap in your head. you fall into a dream.

2. (except it's not a dream, but how were you supposed to know that?)

3. in your dreams, you're healed. you have everything you've wanted: they sky itself, your son, your husband and his love. there are no mutant wars, there's no violence, just you and your son and your husband. it used to feel like such a simple thing to want this, to have this. you're finally fulfilled in a way you haven't felt in so long, in a way you never thought you'd ever be again.

and then she comes down. she has no features, except for her body. the one that resembles yours, even without a face or hair. you're scared. you're so scared as you pull your son close and she reaches out to your husband.

she says nothing, yet it's all that's needed for your husband's face to change, for the love he feels for you to drain out. you were such a fool to think he'd feel otherwise. they kiss, and you understand that it's over. he loves her with a passion he never felt, never could feel for you.

4. you hate him. you love him.

5. "time to lose those wings, maddie. you're not supposed to have them anyway. you can't really fly -- you're not special like us. you're only human."

he pulls the wings from your body, and that's only the start as you clutch your baby. but that's what he takes next, wrestling him from your arms, and placing it in hers. he looks happier with her, this mannequin of a woman than he ever did with you. one by one, every bit of you goes -- the hair from your head, he places on hers, arranges in a loving way you've never had. he takes away your mouth as you scream from him not to, your nows, your ears, and finally your eyes.

and on her, they are magnificent. she is everything you've ever wanted to be, the person you were always held up to and always fallen short of.

you want to scream. you need to scream as they wrap themselves together, like lovers. like a family your son in her arms.

6. you have no mouth. you cannot scream. you are a nothing being in a nowhere place. abandoned and alone.

7. and people wonder why you did this. why you, a nothing being in a nowhere place, abandoned and alone, did what you did. they wonder why you succumbed to a demon's tricks, why you broke down and said yes. why, in a dream that you didn't think would ever have consequences, you picked a snarling angry woman when you were hurt and alone and angry.

they wonder why you became the goblyn queen. they wonder why you tried to kill scott, why you tried to kill nathan, why you tried to kill jean and life itself. you couldn't kill yourself months before, when you had no identity, because alex was there, and alex wanted you. but no one wanted you now, with jean alive and breathing. why not try to kill the person who was you and wasn't? why choose to live when you could die in her arms and be at peace?

8. at least you died remembered, as someone and not a knock off, a nothing. it's not the same as being loved, but it's infinitely better than what you had before.

molly wakes up from the barrage of memories with a groan. her head throbs uncomfortably, a sure sign that getting back to sleep wouldn't be easy. a glance her phone says that it's 10.30, and she thinks she can taste blood in the back of her mouth as she swallows. she was hoping for at least another twenty minutes or so for sleep. that's clearly not in the cards as she rolls over, running the back of her hand against her forehead. for everything good it always seemed like there was something else waiting in the wings to disturb her. she huffs and pulls the pillow back over her face, wanting to at least attempt to get a snatch more or two of sleep. she could deal with madelyne's memories later, when she at least had coffee and time to put the image of a mannequin woman out of her mind.