I would once again like to thank Song of Grey Lemons for being my beta reader. Without her help, the entire story would fall apart.

Song of Grey Lemons: Thank you very much! I can't wait to write the future chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Disney, or any of the characters. Except Ryan. He's mine.

XXX

Piotr knocked on the door to his room. He felt stupid; the room was shared by him and Kitty, so why should he knock? He knocked again.

"Kitty? Are you okay?" There was no answer.

"Kitty? Are you in there?" Piotr tried opening the door but found it to be locked. He used some force and twisted the doorknob. He heard a click and pushed it open, revealing an empty room. He decided to check the bathroom. Once again, he found nothing.

Where the hell could she have gone?

Piotr was completely confused, not knowing what to do. He wanted to go out and search for her but knew that it could take hours, maybe even days.

Piotr walked out of the room and was about to go downstairs when he heard a sound. He stopped and turned around. There it was again. It sounded like…crying. Piotr cocked his head and furrowed his brow. He walked down the hall and heard it get louder and louder. It was coming from Bobby's room. A lump formed in his throat when he realized that it was Kitty crying. He reached for the doorknob, his hand shaking.

Why didn't she come to me? What's going on?

Piotr almost opened the door when he heard a voice.

"Piotr?"

The man turned around and saw Betty standing at the top of the stairs. She walked towards him.

"What's going on?"

"That's what I want to know."

Betsy tried her best to hide her amusement. "What do you mean?"

"Kitty is in Bobby's room. At breakfast, she jumped when their hands touched and now she's crying in his room."

Betsy grabbed Piotr's arm. "Wait. You don't know for certain that it's Kitty. I mean, what if Bobby's with someone else."

"I think I would know the sound of my girlfriend's crying."

"All I'm saying is that you can't be certain that it's Kitty."

Piotr was about to protest when Betsy sighed. She used her telepathy to implant the thought into his mind. Although she would have originally been against it, Betsy didn't have any morals now. She did whatever was needed, whenever. She saw Piotr's eyes gloss over and then he was still.

"Piotr? What do you think?"

"I-I think it might be someone else in there. I mean, it's not like Kitty wouldn't come to me first."

Betsy smiled and nodded. Piotr smiled back and walked away. Dropping the smile, Betsy smirked. She wasn't going to let Kitty get off so easily. The whore would have to tell him herself.

XXX

Jean walked around the perimeter of the mansion, letting the cool breeze hit her face. There was no way that the Professor could find out about her. Not yet, anyways. She would everyone herself when the time was right. However, Jean couldn't help but feel that a small part of her wanted to tell the Professor. Pushing down that feeling, Jean ran a hand through her fiery red hair. She stopped walking and discovered that she had ended up at the back of the mansion. Jean felt her stomach twist when she saw the rows and rows of tombstones. The tombstones of the young students.

"Are you Miss Grey?"

Jean jumped when she heard the voice. It was a compilation of eerily similar voices. She turned around and saw five young women standing before her. They were all blonde and dressed in the same outfit: a white lace top and white pants. Jean couldn't help but notice that the outfit resembled Emma's. Of course, it didn't the slut aspect to it.

"Uh, yes. I am. And you are…?"

"We," the women said in unison, "are the Cuckoo sisters. Miss Pryde has given us the nickname of the Stepford Cuckoos, which we find quite amusing." They all smiled and Jean wanted to run. It was as if they were out of a psychological horror movie.

"That's…nice? Are you new here?"

"Yes, we are. We arrived a few days ago. Someone told us that this was a school for mutants. A haven, if you will."

Jean nodded. "That's exactly what it is."

This time, it was the sister on the farthest right who spoke. "I am Esme, this is Celeste, Irma, and Phoebe. I'm sorry we forgot to introduce ourselves."

Jean found it quite odd that the sisters were lined up until she realized that they were lined up in order of age.

Again, Esme spoke. "Just out of curiosity, who are those tombstones for?"

Jean felt her stomach twist again. "They-they're for former students of the school."

The sisters nodded and looked at one another. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

Jean didn't want to answer but knew that it would cause the sisters to become suspicious. If they found out from someone else, it would make Jean look horrible. Especially if that person was Emma.

"There was an accident involving…fire and the students didn't make it."

The sisters smiled and Jean could tell it wasn't a friendly smile. Once again, Esme spoke. Jean could tell that although Esme was the youngest, she was the dominant sister.

"Those students were murdered, not killed. They were incinerated, not burned. And they were killed by you, not the Phoenix."

Jean was startled. "How…who told you?"

Irma smirked. "We're telepaths. You've done a poor job hiding it from us."

Jean looked down. "I-I didn't mean to. It was a mistake. The Phoenix-it took control."

The sisters shook their heads. "The Phoenix did not take control. You did. And you didn't even bother to use that control. You murdered them. Their blood is on their hands. The statue of you in the front of the school should not be of you rising from the flames, but of you burning in Hell."

Jean felt her eyes become filled with tears. "No, no I didn't mean to. Please, believe me."

Phoebe stepped forward. "Don't you dare lie to us. Our sister was murdered and he denied it. I don't want to be the oldest, but Sophie's gone now. I never wanted to be the oldest sister, but he made me."

Jean reached her hand out and placed it on Phoebe's shoulder. Esme walked forward and grabbed Jean's arm, taking it off her sister's shoulder.

"If you think Emma's bad, you haven't seen us."