I wasn't always what you would call a 'Mutant'. Or, atleast my powers weren't always dominant. So then, what made me so special? Was it my raven black wings, or the fact that I couldn't bare bright light? Was it the fact I could read people's thoughts as well? Why would that make me special? X-Men have those powers as well right? Well, then, what is it that sets me apart from them? For starters, I'm not one, nor could I ever be since they only exist within the pages of a comic book. Yes, mutants are real, many adapt their powers and live amoung average people. However, there are a 'lucky' few who are 'gifted' with a certain power that they either can't control their powers or have a certain appearance because of these powers. These lucky few are either shunned by society and are hidden away or find ways to fit in, such as joining the military, or partaking in a job that requires someone with their skills. I happen to fall into the latter of the above mentioned.
So, what was life like growing up? I'm not one to dwell of the past so I shall try to keep this brief. I was born to a mr. and mrs. Smith(Well actuall Schwarz.), the middle of four children. Now, from a genetic standpoint one might ask, were either parents or siblings mutants as well? The answer to this would be yes. My youngest sister, Emma, and my oldest brother Erick both had powers of their own. Nothing major mind you, Erick could form raw energy into anytihng he wished as well as see through people and their intentions. And Emma? Well, Emma could bring life or death to anything she wanted. My parents, both normal, and secon sister, Erika(our parents had a thing with names begining with the letter 'E' I guess.) Were all devout christians and saw us as cursed. Our mother hated our powers and forbid us from using them and our father was very harsh, especialy to Erick and I. I recall there was this one time the three of us had come back late from school. It was one of those rare occasions when our father would come home late from work in an outraged state, which only worsened when he heard we had come home late. The scene i still something I can;t forget...It went something like this:
"Late?! Why were you three late?" our father demanded, his face turning bright red.
"We missed the bus, that's all." Erick explained casually.
"And why was that? Erika managed to catch the bus, why not you?" He demanded slamming his fist on the table. Erika, hearing her name peaked into the kitchen. Father standing opposite Erik, Emma to the right and me to the right.
"Evee was showing off her wings again to the boys.They had heard she had them and they wanted to see so she obliged them." Erika said a smirk on her face. It was a lie of course. My wings would grow whenever I felt a strong emotion back in those days, and it wasn't something I could control. However, father was anything from rational in those days especially when in a bad mood, and would always belive Erika over the three of us.
"You whench!" he shouted leaning over the table, a menacing look in his eyes. "Erika, hand me one of those knives." He pointed to the drawer which held several shap knives for cooking and cutting meat.
"Wha-why?" Erika asked, sinking back into the hallway.
"I'll make sure that little demon can never show her wings again!" he exclaimed rummaging through the drawer, just as Erick jumped onto the counter, his eyes in a blaze as he gripped father's hand.
"It was a lie! Evee did no such thing, and I won't let you hurt her!" Erik seethed as crimson blood splattered onto his black t-shirt. He doubbled back holding his hand where father had cut him then turned towards me.
"You see! Her wings are that of a demon, black!" he exclaimed. I had been firghtened at the time, but not for myself, but for Erik as well, who was always over protective. Because of that two wings, just like a raven's sprouted from my back, folding over Emma and I. However it wasn't long before I felt a rough pull