Keep your head down. Don't look anyone in the eye. Speaking will get you in trouble.
Just a few of the many things I had learned as a result of living in a state home for all thirteen years of my life. I know, orphanages are cliché, but they exist. The rules help as I walk down the hallway at school.
Two more hours. You can do this, Jemma.
It should have been easy enough. I'd been through years of this. But today, everything seems a lot more difficult. People laugh as I walk past them. Normally I'd assume they were laughing at something else but today the laughing only seems to start when I'm around. Good thing I've learned to ignore it.
As I pass yet another classroom on my way to the art studio, someone shoves me into the wall. My books fall but my voice fails me as I turn around, a phone being shoved in my face.
"Is this you?" Sasha demands to know. I quickly scan the screen and wonder why the most popular girl in school has a zoomed-in picture of me. I nod and she shoves me harder. "Why are you with my boyfriend?" She yells.
My mouth opens to protest until she zooms out of the picture, showing a candid photo of me sitting on a park bench with Chris. I can tell it's photo shopped; the shirt I'm wearing in the picture is the same one I wore to lunch yesterday.
"That's me, yes but... um... someone edited him there?" I try.
Sasha just shoves me and I fall sideways to the ground, catching sight of one of the other kids from the state home. He laughs and walks away with his brother and I know he did it. The fucker does anything and everything to get me in trouble, whether with the authorities or other kids.
Just like every other time, a hint of rage rises in me, but this time something feels different. It's as if someone has poured hot water on my shoulders; the heat rushes down my body and moves towards my hands. Somehow I push it down and try to not make things look any worse as it subsides.
"You sent that picture to her, didn't you?" I yell as I confront Gavin in the basement, where we're least likely to be heard. I know it's not smart to accuse him of this while his brother and his friends are here, but something in me has been dying to punch him all day. He just laughs.
"Of course I did, you retard."
My cheeks burn. "Don't say that."
"Why not? It's not like you're passing any of your classes," He says.
"It's your fault!" I yell. "You're the reason I can't fucking pass!"
He feigns surprise. "No shit."
"You're the damn reason I can't sleep at night. You're the reason I wake up and want to cry. You-"
"I thought that was your brother's fault," he says just a little too innocently. "You know, since he disappeared on you."
He crossed the line. I can feel the heat coming down my shoulders again. "Stop talking."
"Or," Gavin says, "it's your fault. He didn't want to take care of you."
I cover my face. "Shut up!"
"He hated you. That's why he left all those years ago and never. Came. Back."
I scream and foolishly run at him, not caring if someone hears us. Gavin's a fucking prick, but I never thought he'd stoop so low.
Ducking under his outstretched arms, my palms hit him straight in the chest. He falls backwards and his brother steps up and grabs my arm, flinging me at the wall. I cry out as my head connects with the pipe leading to the electrical box, which the father of the house forgot to close this morning after fixing a shortage. My hand slams against the open box and I can feel the tip of my finger brush against a bare wire. A jolt of power surges through me and the heat explodes, coursing through my body and shooting out my hands.
I can barely believe my eyes as fire bursts from my palms, the orange flames dancing on my fingers while only being mildly warm. I see Gavin in the corner of my eye, lunging towards me, and I instinctively jump away from the wall and swing my arm at him. Flames arc through the air and miss him by at least a foot, causing the battered couch to ignite. The other kids in the basement scream and rush up the stairs as I try to subdue whatever's going on. The heat running through my body is hotter than the actual flames and I visualize the energy going back up my chest and out my shoulders, watching as the flames disappear through my fingertips.
By now the fire has spread to the table and I'm the only one in the basement. I run up the stairs and slam against the door, frantically jiggling the locked handle.
"Gavin!" I yell. "Unlock it! Please!" Either he's not there or the crackling of the growing flames is drowning out any reply. I can do nothing but sit at the top of the stairs waiting for someone to open the door because I'm nowhere near strong enough to bust it down. As the flames grow and start moving up the stairs, I press myself harder against the door and try not to breath in too much smoke. Oddly enough, the ever-nearing fire doesn't feel as hot as it should, more like I'm sitting in the sun on a hot day. A tendril of flame licks at my bare feet and it doesn't even mildly burn. Unfortunately, whatever immunity I now have doesn't apply to smoke. It becomes harder and harder to breathe until the room is filled.
I can't breathe. Oh my god I'm going to die.
My vision blurs and I slump against the door.
"Sever intake of smoke, no burns or injuries."
I can see light through my eyelids. The brightness of it scared me and I refuse to open them. There are voices, many of them, and a siren somewhere in the distance. From the back of my mind I remember a fire, heat running through me and...
The fire. The fire was coming out of my palms. Something happened when the electricity went through my body.
My eyes snap open and the world around me focuses. The sudden memory makes me anxious and I feel my breath shortening, my chest heaving for air. There's something in my mouth and I can't breathe oh my god I can't breathe
"Someone get the pump out of her mouth! It's choking her!"
I stare up at a bright light as someone removes the contraption, allowing me to breathe deeply. The light harshens and I blink, turning my head to avoid it. I notice I'm on a stretcher, the ambulance it arrived in several feel next to me. There's a woman in a doctor's coat to my side. I feel crowded; there's too many people around.
"Can you hear me?"
I whip my head around to see a man standing on my right.
"I'll take that as a yes."
As I look up at him, my eyes linger on the eye patch covering his left eye.
"Wh..." My throat is too dry to speak and it feels like I've swallowed sand. I can't complete my question.
"You inhaled a lot of smoke. I'd be surprised if you could speak right now. Then again," he says, looking at me. "I'm surprised you're not burnt to a crisp."
I glance down and realize I'm covered in ash, my clothes covered in burn marks.
The man kneels next to me. "Do you remember a fire?"
I nod slightly.
"Do you remember what caused the fire?"
I consider lying. I've read too many books to think that anything good comes out of burning a house down, much less doing it with your own hands. Literally. I almost stay silent but my fingers involuntarily twitch and I nod again.
After the doctor leaves, I look back up at him. "Me," I whisper. It's all I can manage; I really need some water.
"Do you know how you started the fire?"
This part scares me. I can't tell him the truth. I don't know who he is, why he's here; I can't even believe my own memories. Unable to answer fully, I shrug.
"It's okay. You're not in trouble." My eyes must have displayed my disbelief because he sighed. "We – the organization I work with – has been expecting something like this. Mystery fire, mystery kid who doesn't get burned."
I can't believe this. No way could he have expected it. I didn't even know I could do anything until today. I almost protest until a woman walks up next to him.
The first thing I notice about her is her hair. The red stands out in the fluorescent lights of the ambulance.
"Anything?" She says as if unsure what she expects for an answer.
He nods. "Natasha, I need you to contact Stark. Ask him if fire fits the pattern." The woman walks off and I'm left alone with him. The doctor seems to have gone over to make sure the other kids are okay. I hope Gavin's ridiculous amount of hair gel caught fire.
I shut my eyes, willing all of this to never have happened. Surely I would get in some sort of trouble.
"Tell me your name." It's not a demanding tone, but I feel compelled to answer.
"Jemma." The syllables etch pain into my throat and I get the idea they're trying to make me die of dehydration.
"Jemma, do you like living here?"
I stiffen. He's probably with Child Protective Service or the foster program. Even though I don't want to be moved to a foster family, I shake my head.
"Good. Because you need to come with us."
This is an Avengers FanFic. Because it's the prologue, we haven't met most of them yet (aside from Natasha and Fury). It's my first story up here so reviews are appreciated very much!