I turned towards the window once more. The coloring of the sky had
changed little since the last time I looked, remaining that deep, starless
black that signified the dead of night.
Insomnia...again. I allowed my gaze to rove over the black abyss of my
room. This was something I felt I'd never get used to, this sleeping
problem. It had been with me since my 5th birthday...April 22nd...how
could I forget. That was the same day my parents abandoned me. I
smirked to myself; I guess they couldn't handle my 'abilities'.
It was endless, it was madness, it was miserable. Long drawn out nights
where I pondered the world's meaning, and why, although my parents
were normal, I was a genetic warp. On my fifth birthday I had received
two gifts. One was my insomnia, if it could be called a gift, the other,
was my ability to vaporize, mystify anytime I wanted. But that is not why
I am talking to you. You see...I have a problem...or at least...that's what
they want me to think. You see, ever since that day when I became a
resident of Xavier's school for gifted youngsters, my world has been a
wreck. I remember that day as clearly as I recall anything else in my life. I
remember the way the leaves were changing. The way I felt as I drove
down the highway to the school, the hope I had. I even remember the
song that played on the radio. But most of all I remember him.
...I promise nothing is wrong with me. Don't believe anything that
anyone tells you about me. Read my story, and judge for yourself.
The clouds hung in the blue sky like marshmallows. The morning was
bright and clear, and it filled me with a sense of hope. Several days ago I
had received a letter from a Professor Xavier. He claimed he could help
me with my insomniac dellema. So, fool that I am, I packed my bags and
set off to the Xavier institute...or whatever it was called. For some
reason everything seemed bright that morning as I traveled down the
highway in my secondhand jeep. I had a good feeling about this insitute
thing. Sighing, I slipped my favorite filter CD into the cd player, and
allowed take a picture to consume my thoughts. "Could you wanna take
my picture? Cause I won't remember," I sang softly, as miles of road
blurred in my vision. The highway was passing by like the fragments of a
dream. Ten hours later I pulled into a large cul-de-sac driveway. The sun
was setting, signifying the end of another day. I ran my eyes over the
front of the building. A large comfortable brick structure covered in
crawling vines graced by high windows-Xavier institute. Turning off the
car I slid out, being as careful as possible in my mary-jane stilettos. I'd
been especially careful about what I'd chosen to wear that day, searching
through my minimal closet for hours before deciding on a button-down
pinstripe shirt, and an a-line navy skirt. A prudish ensemble I know, but
it was one of the only things in my closet without holes.