You may have noticed that this is part of a series. If you haven't read part one, Ghost, yet, then don't worry, you don't have to. They don't really connect, but if you read both then you will be able to connect some parallels between them, so I would recommend it! Or at least read the note in the beginning, where I explain the purpose of this series.

Also, brownie points from anyone who can figure out the hidden secret I've been hinting throughout this story before I reveal it ;) Although it actually isn't that hard to figure out, since I haven't really hidden it that well, if we're being honest.

Also, check out Redonkgirl, who was a huge help with coming up with this character and her backstory. She's a great author who also writes within the MCU/XMen Move Verse and I would definitely recommend her!

The yelling only got worse, that's all they ever did. No matter what, they always seemed to be mad at her. Even if she hadn't done anything, even if they knew it wasn't her, she was always the one they blamed, so Sarah did the only thing she could do.

She ran.

She'd always been very good at running, for as long as she could remember at least. It was something she had always been proud of, but they didn't agree. 'Little freak', that was what they called her, although she was sure that mutant was the more accurate term. It stung, but it wasn't the worst thing they did. Far from it, actually.

Sarah could take the constant dyeing of her hair, she could take all the warning to slow down 'or else' – a threat that she never heeded and they never fulfilled. Hell, she could even take the constant racism spouted at her no matter where she went, because she didn't like acting 'normal' like them and didn't want to. It just seemed so boring.

No, none of that bothered her. Not anymore. Having so many people spout the same abuse at you in so many different places made it easy to swallow after a while, water off a duck's back, if you will. Eventually they all blurred into a blank face spouting prejudiced lies at you. But she hated the excuse they always gave her, because she knew that they had no proof, none what so ever, but they were always so sure that they were right.

'Nobody wants a little freak for a kid.'

Sarah was an orphan. From birth, she'd been told. She'd read the file; got bored one night, and breaking and entering wasn't all that hard with super speed. Neither was stealing, but she didn't really count it as that, considering it was technically hers anyway. It had her name on it, after all. But there on paper, in the file, in clear black and white, there was no reason, absolutely none. Her mother hadn't given a single excuse as to why she couldn't or didn't want to raise her child, didn't want Sarah. Well, none that an eight year old could quite comprehend anyway.

"I don't want to raise her without her father, I can't." A direct quote, apparently. But why wasn't her father around? Did he know about her? Did he not want her either? None of this answered Sarah's question, it only gave her more.

But after so many empty faces yell the same blatant lies at you, at a child, you start to believe it. Sarah had been switched around enough orphanages, been denied enough times by eager parent's-to-be, to start understanding how adults thought, how prejudice worked. Soon, she realized that what they said was true, nobody wanted her. Not because of any fault of her own, not because of anything she could control. No, because she was a little freak, a mutant. But Sarah also found that she didn't care.

They didn't want her? Fine, she didn't need them. She didn't need anyone. She was better than them, faster, and as soon as she was free from this never ending cycle she would prove it. Not just to them, but the world.

Sadly, Sarah never got that chance.

It had begun a long time ago, although Sarah never really acknowledged it, not even the possibility. How could she? Clever as she may be, she was a child, she didn't know any better.

She was sitting in her room when it happened, if it could even be called that. They called her downstairs, apparently someone was here to see her, and they wanted to take her. A simple word for a simple concept, for in Sarah's eyes, that was all adoption was, being taken against her will. After all, they would never give her the opportunity to choose. No, they would be glad to be rid of her, if anything.

Sarah had no idea how correct she was.

By now, both she and they were familiar with the procedure. Sarah would run down to them with her speed, having no intentions of hiding it despite their constant reprimanding. Besides, it pissed them off, and she enjoyed the small satisfaction it gave her. Then, she would show the amount of interest she had in being taken by them, which was none, and she would soon be forgotten, if not yelled at for a little while by them.

However, today the tables seemed to have turned, as it was instead them who bore the smug satisfaction, and Sarah who was left confused. These weren't like any kind of parents-to-be that Sarah had seen before. They were too, professional, cold, and their clothes were, odd, to say the least. Her thoughts were cut off by their own malicious grins.

"What-" Was all the young girl could get out before she was shot by something strange. She couldn't name it, but it was too big to be any kind of bullet, she knew that at least. Usually she could have avoided that easily, but she had been confused, and hadn't seen it coming. She tried to run away, she really did, but the walls seemed to be spinning, she was feeling drowsy and light headed and only got a few meters before she fell to the floor.

"…strong…"

"…mutant…"

"…we'll take her."

Sarah only caught snippets of what was being said – what was being said by them - as she slipped in and out of consciousness. First she was face down on the floor, then she was being carried, then she was being strapped into an odd contraption in the back of some vehicle she couldn't name.

And then, she was asleep. Her fluctuating consciousness something she had never realized would haunt her for many years to come.

It lasted two long years, that was what Sarah was told.

The first time she woke up, it was to the searing pain of something being burnt into her arm. At least, that was what it felt like, it was hard to tell, she hadn't felt anything like it before.

The second time, she was chained to a wall, too tired to move, to care. Next time, she promised herself, next time, she would escape.

But next time never came.

After that, she awoke many a time in the cell, making the same promise to herself over and over again, but never fulfilling it. Not only did she get more and more exhausted as time went by, but she also felt more and more pain.

Because sometimes, she would wake up and be forced to run, for hours on end, seemingly never ending, not until she collapsed from exhaustion. Others, they would test her body in different ways, make her react quickly, fight, try and lift things that only got heavier and heavier. Sarah never wanted to do it, but she didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't they used some strange contraption on her, it made her muscles feel weird, tense up, in a way. She couldn't control them then, it was like they had frozen, and would be put back to sleep. It had quickly put her off of trying to run away, although not before she tried, several times.

The worst times to wake up were also the briefest, as they were the times she would be put back to sleep as quickly as possible. Despite their best efforts to keep her in the land of unconsciousness, Sarah soon learnt the feeling of being cut open far too well. The feeling of a blade slicing into her skin, her internal organs, her muscles, even her bones, it was always too much for her body to handle. She would more often than not pass out on her own before they could do it themselves with their strange tubes and medicine. At first, she thought they were dreams, nightmares to remind her that things could be worse. But afterwards, she could feel stitches move, feel the warm blood drip down her body and crust over, and then she was reminded that her nightmare was very much real.

Her animosity towards them only grew with time. They did this to her, were doing this to her. She wasn't quite sure what to call them yet, couldn't think of a word to fully match their evilness, so neutral pronouns would have to do for now.

But one day, she awoke to a different scene. She was still chained in her cell, too weak to move, to open her eyes, to do anything. At first, Sarah had thought she was dying, maybe she was already dead? Her hopes were soon dashed by the sounds of screams, of death. The sounds weren't from the same voices she had grown accustomed to, so it must have been coming from them. But how? Who could possibly overpower them?

Sarah's questions were soon answered, as her cell door was opened. She tried her very best to move, get away, do something, anything! She was so sure that it was them, finally come to finish her off, finish what they had started, before whatever had overpowered them could get to her too.

Much to her surprise, she was wrong, as the chains around her arms snapped off without any contact. Sarah found herself being lifted by gentle arms and held in a warm embrace. She was able to open her eyes for a moment, and catch a glimpse of a man's face, surrounded by a strange, red helmet. The energy the simply action took caused her to fall into unconsciousness once more, but this time, she would awaken somewhere safer.

"Sleep, my child, you're safe now. They can't hurt you anymore."

Please leave any constructive criticism if you have some in the comments! I love reading it and it would really help me improve my writing :)