There was a girl who was never born to 'fit in'. She never wanted to hate, or be hated. No one gave her a second glance because they were too afraid, but all she wanted was for them to finally say 'hello'. This girl is more afraid of herself than people are of her, maybe. She grows and learns with the abuse of those who claim to love her, but only take the money from the state to buy more and more booze. She gets a little tougher everyday, but also just loses more and more hope. Society decided for her, that she was a monster, that she was destined to be a criminal, a villain. Everyone decided for her, that she couldn't be a hero. She is determined to prove them wrong.

My name is Lilith Lokidottir. And this is my story.

Date: June 3, 2006.

It's my birthday, today. I'm finally 15 and it still makes no difference. I woke up with two more bruises; one on my chin and the other on my shoulder. The foster parents were drinking again, and, like always, I was too afraid to use my powers to try and stop them. I'm so incredibly weak, I'm honestly doubting the fact my asshole of a father is the God, Loki. My courage can be measured that of a teaspoon, compared to any god. I'm no goddess. I'm just a girl. At least, that's who I want to be.

It's Wednesday, and school is almost over. I've got one more week, and finals for the next couple days. Great. Just wonderful. I start the day by covering up the bruise on my chin with a lot of makeup, then easily hide my other with my shirt.

I'll admit one thing, as hard as life is, I always keep my grades at all A's. I like my 4.0 GPA, and I'll keep it that way. It'll help with college, if I can't do the one thing I'd really love. I just want to help people, prove to the world I am nothing to fear, and instead someone to trust. And if getting good grades will help me, then so be it.

My foster parents were still asleep, hungover from the night's drinking binge. Okay, with me. Means I wouldn't have to deal with them this morning and can get myself a poptart without someone telling me the list of chores I have waiting when I get home. I could easily shut them up, if I just let go and allowed myself to use my powers freely. I'm too damn afraid. I don't want to kill anyone and it's my ultimate fear. I'm really just afraid of myself. I'm nothing like my father, and I just want the world to see that. But no one will take the word of the girl who is the daughter of the God Of Lies. Here's the funny thing, though. I can't lie. Well, technically I can't lie. I'm cursed to be a terrible liar, to the point that everyone can tell if I am lying. But, there is a good side to this. No matter how good of a liar someone else is, I'll always know if they are lying. So, I just stick to telling the truth, and enjoy pointing out other's lies. But, it's the down and upside to being a demigod.

Getting through the school day is hard enough. I have to deal with people making large paths in the hallway whenever I walk by, others calling me a 'freak' or things of the nature just to get under my skin. And honestly, it works. Today I slammed two boys into the lockers, and they looked so horrified... all they could say was "What are you?". I just blinked at them. It's like they might as well have really seen a true monster. Later on, I heard them conversing about how my eyes changed. Desperate to hear what they meant, I got closer, but they noticed me and shut right up. And stared. They couldn't stop this disgusting stare that they held on me. It made me feel like the entire world was suddenly judging me, and I couldn't breath.

I broke down into tears, after that in the bathroom. Some girl heard me crying and offered her aid, but once she actually saw my face, she began to stutter and get nervous. Then chose to use the bell as an excuse to leave me alone and go to class. Which is upsetting, because I really did want her help.

School ended and I started to get this weird twitchy feeling in my palms. Like they were aching to do something, move, anything! That's when I saw the crumpled penny on the ground. That's right. Crumbled. Like a piece of paper. I picked it up, and began to just...play with it. Before I knew it, I was hovering it in my hand, bending and shaping it to my will. And I found myself smiling. It felt good to use my powers, without fear.

When I finally returned home, I climbed through my bedroom window upstairs so no one would hear me come in. Technically, it isn't a bedroom. It's an attic, but I suited it for myself because I find the concealment oddly comforting when I want to be alone. When I'd got inside, I didn't hesitate to start looking for metals around my room. I needed to be sure, to practice, what it was I am able to do now.

I just was experimenting. Really, I was. I found some jewelry the foster parents kept in a box, and without regret, managed to form it all into a sword. I'll admit, I marveled at it for possibly ten minutes before my foster dad, Hugh, stormed in. He was drunk. Again. And utterly confused with the object in my hand. He took it, waving it around once he decided it was a sword. I wanted to stop him, but another part of me just said to sit still, and watch. Just watch.

And that's when he fell. Out my window and to the ground. I blinked once. Twice. And it took all my courage to look outside to see the dead man on the concrete. He snapped his neck on impact to the ground. Instant death. No pain at all. Part of me ached and wanted to cry, but instead a sadistic smile curled over my lips and I felt disgusted and pleased all at once. I hate it. Hate it with a passion.

I knew I couldn't stay. They'd send someone after me, and I'd be locked up. So I ran. I packed up whatever I found necessary and ran. The oddest thing is that I was sobbing, yet keeping that sadistic grin the entire time. It still makes my blood boil knowing that I was pleased I caused his death. I didn't want this. And now it's happened.

I'm currently sitting in an abandoned hotel while some guy outside continues rambing at me. He says he's from 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' I don't even know what that is, but he said he can help me. And he's...sort of lying. Like he wants to believe it, but is unsure. I can't trust it. Not one bit. So I'll just keep moving. They can try to kill me, and it would be a blessing. But whatever happens, I'm just hoping the cash I managed to steal from the foster parents will be enough. I need to lay low, buy some tiny apartment and finish school. I'll find a way...I know I will.

I don't know why I'm writing all this down. The guy outside has been rambling for an hour, and I haven't moved an inch. I guess I just want someone to know my story. Know the truth. But I think I'm giving up. What's the point in hiding anymore? Trying to run away when there is nothing left for me?

That's it. I'm going. I'll let this "S.H.I.E.L.D." take me. I don't know what will happen or if anyone will read this. But maybe this is the end.

I almost wish it is.