I was born in space, on board the Ark station, with the rest of what used to be the Earth's population. Everyone had their problems with the Ark and the strict rules enforced there, but it allowed us to survive.

Well, most of us.

For people like me, it was kind of the opposite. And when I say "people like me", I really just mean me. Because I was the exception, the defection, the anomaly that shouldn't have happened but did.

On September 22nd, 2131 at 8:33 am Maddie Nolan gave birth to a little girl missing her right lung (that's me). At 11:33 am the council was involved in a debate on whether I would live my (estimatedly short) life or die a peaceful asphyxiated death. Oxygen was already in low supply for the thousands living on the Ark, they couldn't afford to ration out extra for one unfortunate child. Even if the mistake had been the Ark's fault, for not picking up on the fetus defect during all of the prenatal tests they required. It was sad, but sacrifices needed to be made in order to maintain survival.

At 11:52 my fate was sealed, a newborn baby sentenced to execution. At 12:01 my fate was redecided, as Doctor Abby Griffin stepped in. Being 8 months pregnant herself, she refused to let them float a child who had been alive for less than 24 hours. She convinced the council to let me live for however long I might have up in space, assuring them that it was very possible for me to survive without any special treatment aside from medication they could easily spare.

They hooked me up to a ventilator and checked the rest of my vital signs to see if I'd even last the rest of the week. My parents waited three days to name me. I mean, once you name something it basically solidifies the attachment, and why get attached to a baby you might not even get to keep? When they did name me, they chose Theia, after the medicine prescribed to "save" me, Theophylline.

It's supposed to help open up air passages in the lungs, making it easier for me to breathe and get enough oxygen. The ironic part was that I myself never opened up to anyone. Guess there isn't much power in a name after all. The medicine kept me alive, but barely. Each breath was a struggle, and my earliest memories are filled with my parents giving me the kind of looks reserved specifically for a dying child; a mixture of pity and agonizing grief.

The Ark was humanity's salvation, and my suffocation.

My body would not quit though, pumping whatever little oxygen it could get through my system. I was a sick child, but I was a living and breathing one. I continuously defied all odds, much to everyone's surprise. Especially my parents. They had been mentally and emotionally preparing for me to die. They had also been physically preparing for me to die.

By trying to have another child in my absence. And succeeding.

My mother gave birth to another baby girl when I was three, this one much healthier than I would ever hope to be. Adelia Rose Nolan, my little sister. They gave her away to a friend of my fathers, whose wife was unable to conceive, and the Ark was none the wiser. To the general public she was Adelia Woods, with no relation to me aside from being a close friend of the family.

It was hard on my parents. I mean they still had her, got to see her all the time, could raise and parent her behind closed doors. But the secrecy kept us all a little sick. Some days I wondered if my parents resented me for not dying when I was supposed to. I mean, I knew they loved me. But they had already accepted my fate, gone through the anguish and turmoil accompanied with losing a child, only to have it be in vain. Other days I wondered if they had just wished Adelia had been born first, instead of me.

Either way they showered her in affection, and I would have been jealous if it had been anyone other than her. But Adelia was my sunshine as much as she was my parents. She would sit next to me when breathing got too hard, holding my hand and taking deep breaths with me, her small voice chanting "in, and out" rhythmically.

I was the big sister, and yet she was always the one taking care of me. Rushing to get me my medicine, conjuring up extra pills when I had thought I had run out for the month, staying home from school whenever I got sick to help take care of me, which was more often than not since because of my condition I was more susceptible to colds and viruses. She did everything she could to keep me here with her.

My mother always made it clear that I was to do anything in my power to protect Adelia, no matter the cost. She would brush my hair away from my face and say, "One lung or not, you muster up all of the air you have inside and you unleash it, as fierce as a hurricane. Set fire to everything and build a home for yourself in the flames if it means protecting your sister. Be a hurricane and no one can ever hurt you, or the ones you love," and with a kiss on my forehead she'd send me off.

I never questioned her and I never argued, despite the fact that I wasn't sure if I had what it took to be a hurricane. But if that's what I needed to do to keep my sister safe, then I would. And I did.

My safety tended to be a bit of a different story though.

We are all born to die. Some are snuffed out like a candle, while others fight to burn like a forest fire. My name is Theia Nolan, and this is the tale of how I overcame death.

But death is unforgiving, and it doesn't like to be cheated. And it always wins in the end.

A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while since I've posted anything and I want to first and foremost apologize. Life kind of swept me up in stress. I also want to apologize for not updating my other stories while starting yet another one, but I promise, they'll get there eventually. But I recently started and finished watching the 100 and I became such Bellamy Blake trash that I couldn't resist trying a Bellamy/OC story. Soooo here is the prologue. It's super short and just gets the basic ideas out there, but I'm hoping to have the first chapter up sometime very soon. So yeah. Let me know what you think. :]

-Briana