They always said I had a mind if my own.

The day I was born, the cursed day I was named Nicole Iris Wicks, and cried in my mother's arms, a nasty storm raged outside. The winds were powerful, nearly wiping out civilians on the sidewalks. Cars swerved against the gusts, tires screeching. The tornado-like air currents swatted droplets into the windowpanes of houses and slapped them onto the roof of the hospital. The rain had already been pouring, which didn't help the condition of the unpredictable winds.

My mother loved to tell that story.

I remember my first loss. A goldfish, I'd been so proud of. I had named it Ironfish, in inspiration of the news-famous Ironman. Unfortunately, I learned the 'irony' of such a name, when the fishbowl had crashed into the tile floor after bumping into it. The glass had collided to the floor, water spilling, fish flying through the room like the legendary Ironman. A child's shrill scream cutting through the room, the windows shattering as a gust of harsh wind broke through the room and swept me off my feet.

The fish did not survive.

The Avengers were growing as I did. By the time I was in middle school, so many conflicts had already occured between them. Captain America was always an idol. His long story of how he fought to protect his nation, and ended up frozen in ice for nearly one seventy to come back, and find the world a different place, especially with the internet. I couldn't imagine. I had a massive respect for that man. He did something I would never be brave enough to do.

I learned at my own pace, that I was not normal.

This was discovered in the hot classroom of eigth grade science. Kids were doing experiments with candles and different types of wood, but I wasn't really interested. The room smelled of smoke and sweaty children. I had walked up to the window, opening it. By this time, I knew my actions had something to do with the wind, I just didn't know how to utilize such. I understood that whenever I was angry, or scared, or sad, that gusts of wind would erupt from nowhere, but my plan was not to cry in an eighth grade science class.

So I tested my ideas, as anyone would do in a science room. I tried using my hands, as discretely as possible, but it still managed to gain some weird looks. It hadn't worked anyway. I tried holding my breath, staring, leveling my breathing; nothing.

But the one test that did work. I imagined. Not the bullcrap of 'imagining the wind flowing through the room' stuff you hear from clichè stories, but when I focused on heating my body, on pushing the large air current into the window, on the invisible force twisting through the branches of the trees, as if I were one with it. A heavy wind had pushed through classroom, leaving a fresh smell of spring in it's wake, blowing out the candles in the process.

After that success, I practiced. I practiced shaking apples from trees in the solitude of my backyard. I played with people's hair on the playground, which was quite enjoyable. I confused birds midflight. Everything was a game back then.

And then, the game finally became a reality.

I was a highschooler, my parents with me. I'd been on my phone, barely acknowledging their presense. They had dragged me away from my room, imprisoning my device, and then we were walking on the sidewalk. I had no knowledge of where we were even going. I had no care to know.

The mugger had jumped out from nowhere. They'd waved the gun in my mother's face, demanding money and wallets. I was not frozen; this is what I had building up such a power for, afterall. I had launched at the man with the gun, and he had foolishly stumbled. A breeze had picked up around us, as I punched him and he got a grip on his gun. He'd elbowed me off, tripping backward, his finger pulling the trigger. He'd shot my mom.

I had screamed in horror and anger, spitting in a rage I'd never experienced before, and I was merciless. My father had not watched, he was too busy clutching to my mother's cold, limp body. But he would have been dissapointed.

I was a fiery mess. The breeze had now broke into a wind almost equivalent to that of a tornado. Innocent people were swept off their feet throughout the city. I punched and punched and kicked the mugger, weeping in my own emotional defeat. "No!" I had screamed to the heavens, over and over.

An old building gave a thundering crash, catapulting to the ground as the wind slammed into it. Jarring metal had knocked me to my side, and it was all I could do to use my powet to keep it from crushing me. I sobbed, realizing my father was now dead because of me. Because I did not have control of my own emotions and I couldn't defeat a petty mugger. I was pathetic.

This, truly, is where my journey began.

I'm now eighteen, although I had to survive through-out highschool with foster parents and adoptive services as a depressed teenager that had to live with the fact that they had killed their parents. I was a wreck. It was a dark turn in my life. I'd decided I'd never express an emotion again. Live as an empty soul, so I could never hurt anyone. I already had to live knowing that someone suffered because of my own weak emotions and feeling. This had only made me feel empty, and admittedly I'd been addicted to self-harming for several years before throwing that path away and letting myself heal.

I felt as though I had sinned everytime I couldn't control my emotions. A little simmer of happiness, or a glimmer of hope. The times where you feel sad... you can't control it. Although by now, I was pretty much dead to my own emotions.

I had lived years without a smile on my face. I'd slapped myself countless times whenever shameful feeling ran through my thoughts.

I'd trained myself.

The Avengers had now assembled, Ultron destroying several cities. I shook my head. Why had I looked up to them? All they caused was destruction, destruction, destruction. That was why I avoided them like the plague. Shamefully, I feared them. I feared hurting innocent people at my own cause, as I had done when I was too blind to see what harm I was causing. That was why I ran from the Avengers.

What I didn't realize, was that the Avengers were already searching for me.