This chapter has been heavily revised. Most of the changes will be found in the character/personality/traits/etc. of Gwen, our lovely protagonist. This has been done so that she will no longer be little goth girl. Changes and revisions have been/eventually will be made to the entire story in general.

Disclaimer: Stan Lee is the evil genius behind the X-Men, but I am a consultant . . . just kidding.

Jade of the Night: Chapter 1: Secrets Don't Last Forever

"Gwen! Breakfast time!"

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat!"

"No, I don't."

The old woman groaned under her breath as pancake batter sizzled on the griddle. A lot had changed over the past sixteen years. The orphanage had definitely gotten a much needed makeover, thanks to the generosity of the city. With the renovation came new maple flooring throughout the entire four story building, new paint replaced the 'groovy' orange wallpaper from the sixties and new windows were put in place of the cracked ones. There were brand new appliances and a new heating/cooling system was installed. To finish it off, the roof had been fixed up and the exterior repainted to a rather welcoming shade of blue.

The loving feeling that Beatrice Simon, the same woman who had run the place since she was twenty, gave to each of the children had never changed.

"Gwen, your breakfast will get cold! Come out, please!"

"I - I can't!"

"Bea, do you want me to get her?" one of the older teens, Jack, asked.

"No, Jack, I think I can get her out." Beatrice said, "Gwen, if you don't come out right now, I'll go in there!"

Silence filled the massive dining room as those that had woken early for school stared at the dark brown door that led to Gwen's dimly room. The old woman smiled and turned to the kids, "She'll be out in no time, don't worry." Those sitting around the table exchanged smiles. Gwen wasn't exactly a morning person, and this was an almost daily routine. Beatrice turned back to her pancakes and started flipping. The knob of Gwen's door began to wobble and slowly the door opened.

A young woman of sixteen years emerged. She was tall, about 5 foot 8 inches, and walked with an awkward kind of grace. Her hair was a fading shade of dyed black, with hints of her natural browns and auburns here and there when the light hit it just right. It hung, unbrushed, over her pale face, shadowing the dark sunglasses that she wore everyday. Her clothes were loose and slightly disheveled, as though she had only just rolled out of bed. Her sockless feet shuffled slowly over the hardwood floor. She clear did not care about her general appearance, but gave off the feeling that she might just punch you in the face if you made any kind of comment.

Gwen was kind of a mystery child in the orphanage. She was one of the two oldest kids there, and was constantly looked over for adoption, as it had been for most of her life. None of the younger kids knew much about her, and many were too scared to ask. She had gone through a kind of regressive transformation about three or four years prior, around the time she was twelve. It was during this time that she had come to realize that she would never be adopted. She went from being a once happy, exuberant little girl to being a moody, quiet young woman, almost at the drop of a hat. She began to doubt herself a lot and her self-esteem was never the same has it once had been. Usually rather reserved, she became angry and resentful, often lashing out at people for the simplest of things. Her disposition wasn't the only thing to change - her clothes, her interests, even her sleeping habits had all changed as well. That was also the time she started wearing her sunglasses. No one knew why she wore those glasses, but they didn't bother to ask her. When asked, she claimed that she was very sensitive to light and the glasses reduced the impact of light on her eyes. There was another reason, the real reason, pertaining to why she wore those sunglasses, and it was one that Gwen rather strongly hoped they would never learn of.

"Here, Gwen, take my seat." Jack said as he stood up.

"Thanks." Gwen said quietly as she sat down.

"Good morning my dear!" Bea said cheerfully, placing a plate of pancakes, eggs and sausages before the teen.

"Thanks, Bea."

"Pull your hair back, please, before it gets in your food." she said reaching for Gwen's dark locks. Gwen tried to retaliate, but it was no use, the damage was done. Bea let out a horrified gasp as an enormous black and purple bruise was revealed on Gwen's left cheek.

"Not again . . ." she sighed, pulling Gwen into her room and closing the door, "What happened?"

"It was them again. They cornered me. I didn't have a chance."

"Why didn't you use your . . . mutation?" Bea asked, her reluctance to use the word was obvious.

"That would have only provoked them even more. Why should I give them more arsenal against me?"

"Did you - ?"

"Fight back? I tried, but there were too many of them. There were fists flying at me from every direction, how was I to know where to throw a punch?"

"Did you go to the police?" Bea asked, exasperated, "This is a hate crime!"

"Yea, go to the police and say that I have been a victim of a hate crime. What sympathy are they going to give to a white girl claiming she's the victim of racism or sexism or whatever? None." Gwen retorted, she'd had this conversation way too many times for comfort, "I know what you're thinking, but exposing myself would have been a bad plan, too. Police are all around a bad idea."

Bea sighed, she knew trying to argue with Gwen would only anger the girl, so she gave up, "How bad is it?"

Gwen pulled up her sleeves, revealing several bruises and heavily bandaged areas. There were more on her torso and legs, as well. Neither of the women spoke. It had been nearly four years since Gwen had found out that she was different, that she was a mutant. Not knowing how the other students would react, both her and Bea kept it a secret. But secrets don't last for long. Classmates from school found out within two years and began to stalk her. Soon enough they began to beat her. These weren't just your normal bad-ass kids trying to find trouble. These people were jocks, classmates, peers, friends, even the boy she had liked. It was soon after that when she changed in hopes of blending into the background and becoming unnoticed by those hateful eyes. The truth behind her usual silence was fear. She was scared to wake up each day, knowing that she would be taunted for every breath she drew. It was her against her high school, and she felt as though it wouldn't be long before the kids at the orphanage would turn on her as well.