"This is outrageous! It's not a child, Lillian. It's a wretched, disgusting, horrifying little beast!" roared the rage-filled voice of George Darkholme, as he punched his fist angrily against the surface of the polished, wooden dining room table, creating a loud bang. The noise, like thunder, caused the sleeping in infant to scream and cry helplessly.
"Leave her alone, George! She cannot help what she looks like! She is a newborn baby!" Lillian cried, rocking the baby back and forth in an attempt to settle her.
"Well, you can say and do what you please, Lillian, but I refuse to call that filthy, mutated thing my daughter!" With that, George, his face burning red with rage, stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Lillian looked down at the child, tears stinging her emerald green eyes. The infant certainly didn't appear human. Her skin was cobalt blue, and her eyes a sickening shade of yellow. Despite those unnatural, horrifying features, her thick hair was a beautiful shade of auburn red.
"Pay no attention to your father, Raven," Lillian said softly, stroking the child's forehead. "I do not care if you're different. You are still my daughter, and you are still beautiful. I will always love you."
Five years rolled passed slowly. Years of fear, confusion and hiding. Little Raven didn't understand why she was different, why her father refused to look at her, why she wasn't allowed to leave the house, why she had to stay hidden in her bedroom whenever visitors came to their house. One afternoon while Raven sat in her bedroom, alone and isolated, she looked at herself in the small, gold-framed mirror. She closed her eyes and daydreamed about what it would be like to look normal. To have curly, golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and beautiful pale skin. Slowly, Raven opened her eyes. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she gasped with shock. Her appearance had completely changed; she looked just like she had in her imagination! Raven blinked several times, expecting the image to vanish, expecting her body to return to its freakish form, but it didn't.
"Mummy!" she called. "Mummy! I want to show you something!"
Lillian Darkholme raced to her daughter's bedroom. When she opened the door, she saw an unfamiliar child with curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin staring back at her. "Raven…?" she asked, completely dumbfounded.
"Yes Mummy! Look! I'm beautiful! Just like the princesses in the story books!" the child exclaimed with excitement.
Lillian knelt down to Raven's level and examined her daughter more closely. "How did you… what… I do not understand. How is this possible? Raven, what have you done?"
"I wanted to be beautiful, so I thought about it and now I am." Raven moved closer to her mother and whisper in her ear, "Do you think Daddy will love me now?"
Lillian pulled her daughter into a hug. "Oh Raven," she sighed, shaking her head in confusion. She had never seen Raven so full of joy and excitement.
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open to reveal George Darkholme, standing at the door. His harsh, stone-cold expression quickly transformed into an expression of shock. "What on Earth…? What is the meaning of this?!" he exclaimed.
Lillian turned to face her husband, still clutching little Raven in her arms. "Are you satisfied now, George? Your daughter is a shape-shifter."
As five more years tumbled by, ten-year-old Raven began to realise that she was more than just an ugly little girl with freakish yellow eyes and horrid blue skin. She possessed strange abilities that no one else had. She was special, incredibly unique. Sadly, these gifts seemed to be more of a curse, as her father still did not love her. In fact, he was even more convinced that she was a wicked monster.
Unfortunately for Raven, her mother suddenly became severely ill. Late one night, Raven crept into her mother's bedroom. She tiptoed over to the large bed, and sat herself down beside her mother.
"Hello Raven," Lillian whispered, forcing a weak smile across her face.
Raven reached into the pocket of her silky pink nightgown and pulled out a small white and yellow daisy. Carefully, she placed in her mother's cold, pale hand. "I picked it from the garden."
"It's beautiful," Lillian sighed, gazing at her daughter. "You are such a lovely girl, Raven. It is such a shame that your father does not see it. I am very proud of you. You have to promise me that you will always be proud of who you are."
"I will, Mum. I promise," Raven said softly, tears rolling down her cheek. "I love you."
Struggling, Lillian took another wheezy, deep breath. "I… love you too… Raven."
Lillian Darkholme's funeral was the next day. Poor Raven was completely heartbroken. The one person who had truly loved her, cared about her and understood her, was gone. She felt more lost and alone than ever. She lay in bed that night, curled up beneath her soft, warm blankets, sobbing silently. She couldn't imagine the future without her mother. She couldn't imagine having to spend the rest of her life with her father, the man that utterly despised her.
Before another painful thought could cross her mind, Raven felt a strong hand grab her shoulder. She gasped, and turned her head to see a dark figure looming over her. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, allowing her vision to clear.
"Father?" she groaned sleepily. "What are you doing in here?"
"You must come with me, Raven. Now," he said sternly.
Raven did as she was told and followed her father out of the bedroom, down the hall, out of the house, through the front garden and out the front gate. "Where are going?" she asked curiously, pulled her nightgown tightly around her shivering blue figure. Her father did not answer. They walked for ages in dead silence, with nothing but the sound of the wind howling. Suddenly, her father halted and spun around to face her.
"Listen to me, Raven," he growled, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders and shaking her violently. "I never want to see you ghastly little face as long as I live. If you ever set foot in my house again, I swear I will kill you. There is no place in my home for mutants. There is no place in this world for mutants! Do you understand me?"
Raven nodded. Her whole body was paralysed with fear. With that, her father threw her to the ground and stormed off. That was that last Raven ever saw of George Darkholme.
Her feet aching, her eyes stinging and her body longing for sleep, Raven trekked her way through the darkness. She felt her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. She dragged her bare feet along the ground as she walked. Her stomach was growling for food. After a long, tiring journey, she arrived near a large mansion. To Raven, the magnificent building looked like a castle out of a story she'd read when she was younger. She gazed at the house for some time, wishing there was some way she could get inside.
Perhaps… there is, she thought mischievously to herself. After all, what was the point of having powers if she never used them. Raven crept through the beautiful, manicured gardens until she found herself standing underneath a window.
"Goodnight, Xavier. Sweet dreams," she heard a motherly voice say.
Taking a deep breath, Raven climbed up to the window.
I can do this, she told herself. I do not need my father. I am special. I am Raven Darkholme.