She is watching me.

She is watching me watch her.

Every move is calculated, eyes flickering towards my every movement, hands poised in front of her to strike before I do. Despite me having made the first move, she is determined to make the last.

There is no way I will allow that to happen again.

Only moments before, what was supposed to be a victory was cut short by Gamora running into a cave too small to hold the spaceship I was flying.

Only moments before, she saved my life from a burning hell.

I cannot understand it. No matter how many times I try; no matter how hard I work towards my goal, she always manages to get one step ahead of me. It is the same as when we were children.

It wasn't always like this. Why wasn't it always like this? Why hasn't she died yet? Why does she always have to be the better person? How can the Guardians of the Galaxy stand to be in her presence?

I race forward and kick my legs out at her, landing a blow in. Satisfaction doesn't even manage to worm its way in before she gets her own kick in. She slaps my face and I spit on the ground, her hand leaving a mark on my cheek.

She disgusts me.

I scream in her face and take the momentary distraction to punch her in the gut. She cries out in frustration and knees my solar plexus. I gasp in rage and stumble back momentarily before she charges at me again.

My hand is up before she can hit me, and she goes spiraling out of control, gasping away from me. And then she is back, stronger than before, pummeling me into the ground. When did she become so strong?

When did I become so weak?

Again and again we ram into each other, spending all the rage, distrust, and hurt that is in us. Again and again we fail to completely disarm the other one. It is a never-ending game of you punch me, I punch you.

Finally we collapse side by side, breathing heavily and staring up at the dark ceiling. I wonder if there is any light in this world for me. She tells me I don't need to win every fight, that we are still sisters. I turn to look at her, my gaze genuine on purpose. I want her to see this side of me.

I want her to see my vulnerability.

I tell her that I was the one who just wanted a sister. She always wanted to win. I cared about her. I wanted to love her. She gave me nothing in return.

As soon as the words are out, Gamora flinches, as if she had no idea how I felt. Of course she didn't. All she wants to see is herself. I turn back to the ceiling and watch as flames dance across my vision. She wants to help me out. She wants to help me live.

I want to die.

Still.

We manage to escape the collapsing cave and eventually find our way back to the other Guardians, where a war between Star Lord and his father ensues. Throughout it all, I think of how I knew the guy was a madman to begin with.

And then we are in the ship, the planet crumbling around us.

For some reason, Star Lord has decided the sacrificing himself is the better way. I do not understand his logic. Don't we fight in order to survive? Gamora is frantic. I suppose she cares for him, as they all care for him.

This feeling of anticipation I understand.

I do not understand the way they have banded together and called it friendship, and not the way they have ostracized themselves into heroism, but I understand the reason they can all respect Star Lord. He is an honorable man. Even I can see that.

Even I await either his death or miraculous salvation.

The world pauses as we wait. The very air we breath becomes stagnant. And in the end when he returns safely, there is some sort of bitter joy to be had.

Bitter because of Yondu's death.

Bitter because I realize that for the first time in a long time I have felt something other than hatred.

Bitter, because in those few moments, the thirst for revenge was quieted by my thirst for acceptance.

If Gamora asks me to join the Guardians, I will decline. Thanos needs to pay for what he has done. Thanos needs to suffer the way I suffered, only a thousand times more.

I don't care if it takes days, or months, or years. I will find him. I will end this once and for all. I will taste the freedom I deserve. Gamora did not spare my life in order for me to continue waiting and doing nothing.

I may not be a Guardian of the Galaxy, or the leader of the Ravagers, or even a hero.

But I am not a mistake.

I am Nebula.