A/N: The characters and how they're displayed in this story is my perception of them. The main plot is from the Iron Man movie but I just added my character in there, so the plot is not a creation of mine. I'd also like to say is that Cara (care-uh) is my alter ego or the smarter version of myself, so how Cara is perceived here is how I perceive myself. Enjoy!
I'm Carolyn Stark, but it was originally Carolyn Howard. My dad was Chuck Howard and my mom's name is Talia Stark, the insignificant and forgotten sister of the great Tony Stark, the smarter than average, the more brilliant than normal son of Howard Stark. He started Stark Industries and created the Atomic Bomb. My mother was unnoticed by the press and sometimes the family. My grandfather gave no to little notice of my mom. My grandmother was the only one to give her attention. Tony felt guilty to have all the brains of the pair, but soon forgot his guilt when he became engulfed in his own work and successes. My mother had had enough of being treated like she was an undeserving and unintelligent daughter. I mean she was smart, just not Stark smart. So she ran away at night when she was fourteen. She got a job, got an apartment, and went to a public high school. She worked as a cashier at a local food market. She could get discounts on food, and food was her passion back then, preferably pastries.
Then in college where she was studying to become a pastry chef, she met my dad. He wasn't a college student, but he was posing as one to impress my mom. He showed up on a Harley and asked if she wanted to take a ride. But my mom wanted to talk first and they talked every night, meeting at the same spot until my mom said yes to a ride. She was in love. A year and a half later, they got a private marriage and went on their honeymoon on one of the Stark private islands.
Ten months later when they were living in a house in northern California, where they owned a fruit farm so my mom can grow fruit for her homemade pastries, and where they also owned a pastry shop in town, my mom announced to my dad over cherry pie (which is why I don't like cherries) that she was pregnant with me.
At once my dad said incredulously, "What?" but in a way that said "I don't want a baby." My mom looked up at the man she thought she had a connection with. Turns out, as he was packing to leave forever, he really only married her because he recognized that she was a Stark and never really wanted to settle down. My mom thought, "How could I have been so naïve?" She was so focused on finally being accepted that she was oblivious to the other possibilities that maybe he never really liked her, but used her for her money. So he left without looking back once, and was never heard from again. My mom was filled with remorse and guilt, knowing that I wouldn't have a father figure to look up to. But she was determined to make it work out for the both of us.
As I grew up, she noticed I was smarter than normal, a true Stark. But it wasn't as drastically smart as her brother, who she hadn't seen for at least ten years. She's been avoiding being a Stark. She even kept her married name. Now when she turns on the TV or sees magazines in stores, she sees her brother's face, saying he's taken the family business now since he turned twenty-one. His face was reminding her of her time at home so she began to avoid those places.
Finally when I was twelve, I was a freshman in high school and creating elaborate designs of cars and engines. By that time, my mom's store closed while it was under her friend's care. We still lived in Northern California, but we moved when the store closed and after we sold all the fruit.
My mom was an intern for a small accounting business and was getting paid twelve dollars an hour for four hours each day working part-time all week, including weekends. We weren't getting enough income to survive and we were feeling desperate. Then I came up with an idea: I'll send one of my car designs to GM, and if they like it they'll pay us a lot of money. If it gets popular, I'll get a bonus depending on the popularity! My mother agreed with the plan and we sent one out to GM. We waited for a response for what seemed like years, but it came in two months. They liked it and wanted permission to use it. So we flew over to Detroit on an already paid for flight to our scheduled meeting. When the CEOs saw a twelve year old girl say she made those designs, they thought I was joking and turned to my mom for permission. But my mom, being honest and fair, said that I really did make the designs, and I showed them the designs on my laptop. They looked like they still didn't believe me, but went along with it anyway. They asked permission, named a price that sounded reasonable (and I think two thousand dollars for a design is sufficient), then my mom and I left the meeting with a check in my hands.
When I was fourteen and a junior in high school, my mom decided to walk to the market. It was getting a little dark out so she wanted to take a shortcut down an alley. From what I heard, there were two drunk guys in the alley and they surrounded my mom. She pulled out her pepper spray but they knocked it out her hand. So she tried to run back and speed-dialed me at home. I answered on the first ring and she said in a frightened voice, "Nine-one-one! Call nine-one-one!" Then I heard the scream that I'd never forget until the day I died. Then the line went dead. I didn't know it then, but someone, probably the drunk men, had crushed her cell phone. Starting to panic, I fumbled with the phone and dialed nine-one-one with trembling fingers. Someone answered and asked what the emergency was. I said with a quivering voice, "Something's wrong with my mom. She told me to call nine-one-one. I don't know what happened—"
"Calm down, honey." the woman said, trying to be soothing, "Where is she right now?"
"I don't know," I said hysterically, "She was on her way to the market-"
"That's all we need to know." She told me and hung up.
The first thing I did was sit down, dropping the phone next to me. All I could hear was her scream. It is and always will be the worst sound I ever heard.
I have to do something, I thought. I ran to the garage, grabbed my bike and raced to the streets of the small town. It took five minutes to get to town and from there I could hear the sirens. I pedaled faster, my heart beating against my throat. I found the ambulances by an alley half a block from the market, but there was more than just ambulances. There were police cars, media vans and an entire crowd of people surrounding something.
I practically jumped off my bike and sprinted to the crowd. I could hear some murmurs and some people asking, "Who could have done such a thing?"
I didn't like the way they said that. I pushed through the crowd, forgetting my manners. My heart now felt like it would burst out of my torso. I got to the front and couldn't comprehend what I saw.
My mother's face was unrecognizable, and the blood…
I was dreaming. I had to be. This can't be happening. It can't be real. But wait—I remember waking up this morning…
She can't be. No. This isn't true! This isn't fair! She can't be…gone…forever.
I fell to my knees, not being able to withstand the pressure surrounding me, choking me. The ground caved in below me, my world crashing around, along with the nameless faces closing in on me.
I felt cold; all the blood rushed from my face. I felt my tears fall, burning hot down my face. I started to sob, barely breathing.
Everything was a blur, like I was in a trance. I answered everything in a monotone, without thinking. I moved to where they told me to and answered to whatever they asked, but my mind was elsewhere.
What's going to happen to me? I thought about repeatedly. Where will I go? Mom said that she's an only child and my dad is nowhere to be found. Do I have to go to an orphanage in some other city? I need answers!
Eventually, the police took me to my house to find her will. I showed them the office, still wrapped in my thoughts. They found it in the bottom drawer of her desk. I heard a policewoman say something.
"Sweetheart?" she said to me.
I looked up, coming back to the present. I didn't know she was speaking to me at first.
"You should get some rest," she said looking at me with concern and sympathy.
I only nodded. My voice felt like it was rusty from lack of use. I turned around and slowly walked to my room. I got in bed without even bothering to change into my pajamas. I couldn't close my eyes; they were still wet. But I tried to go to sleep, because in the back of my mind, I knew I should get some rest.
While I was falling asleep, I knew, deep down, that from now on my life would be changed in ways that I could have never conceived of before.