Charles is not dead, or paralyzed. Rogue still has her abilities
Summary: When you think of the word mutation, what is the first definition that comes to your mind? Well, when I asked Google, it responded with: "A mutation is a permanent alteration of the nucleotide sequence of the genome of an organism, virus, or extra chromosomal DNA or other genetic elements."
Only, when I ask myself, the one word that comes to mind is me.
Lydia Renae Clark is a mutant with a background not quite like the others. She grew up in a high class neighborhood, went to private school, and believed she was completely human. Until now. Her mom has shipped her off to Mutant High, without even a hint of what her ability is, and she soon learns she has a much darker past than she thought. Her, once dead, dad is alive and there's a brother she had no idea about.
Add a waging war between the human government hellbent on curing or killing all mutants, she's in for the fight of her life. While rebuilding their team, there is an attack launched. Lydia goes missing along with a few other friends, and she learns more about her past than she really wanted to know. Can she use the knowledge to her advantage or will she get herself killed?
Goodbye to my Normal Life
When you think of the word mutation, what is the first definition that comes to your mind? Well, when I asked Google, it responded with: "A mutation is a permanent alteration of the nucleotide sequence of the genome of an organism, virus, or extra chromosomal DNA or other genetic elements."
Only, when I ask myself, the one word that comes to mind is me.
I used to be a normal fifteen year old girl, who went to a normal private school. I'd learned that when other mutants began their how'd-you-get-here-story, it ended with "And then I got my ability, ruined everything, and ran". Not for me. I never got my ability. At least, not at that moment.
Instead, I'd come home after school, pulling my dark brown curls out of the high ponytail they'd been in. I loosened my red prep school tie and kicked off my black dress shoes. Next, I undid my black blazer and threw it onto the couch. All that remained now was my white button down, black and red plaid skirt, and white knee high socks. I pushed my hair back.
It was a little after four now, my commute to school taking a little less than an hour and a half. Now that I was home, I'd sit down and complete my homework with a snack, then I'd wait for my mom to come home to make dinner. That was our routine when I didn't have cheer or soccer practice. So, I pick up my backpack and rummage through it for my biology book and binder. I open up the page and begin with where we'd left off in class.
The X Gene and What it Means for Human Kind
I can't continue, too lost in my thoughts. Mutants had been around for a while, now, but most were in hiding. There had been talk about new laws being discussed that would soon go through congress. My mom, a government biologist, wouldn't really tell me anything more when I asked. She said she didn't want me involved in the politics of it all. I still couldn't help but wonder what would happen to those kids, those mutants my age. Or the ones younger.
With the rapid growth of the mutant population since the early 1900's, humans have since lived in tolerance with the species, I read.
Tolerance. Sure.
I skimmed down further, reading the paragraph on the mutant population growth halfheartedly. It made me sick to my stomach how the human government could preach tolerance and equality, but I'd witnessed first hand just how mutants were treated in my own school.
We'd had a girl come in for her first year of high school last year. She was in my freshmen class, and she seemed to be completely normal aside from her yellow eyes. I'd learned that if someone's family had an abundance of x genes and a long history of mutants, they'd sometimes be born looking physically different from the humans. She'd been one of them. No one had ever learned of her abilities, it's not like she used them, but she was bullied out of my school in a matter of months.
The humans were merciless towards them. I sympathized with her, I could never imagine being exiled like that.
"Lydia!" my mother called, "I'm home!"
Wait, was I really over here procrastinating that long? I hadn't even gotten a chance to grab a snack yet. I look at my phone to see that only thirty-two minutes had passed since I'd been home. Why was she home so early?
"What are you doing here so early?" I ask her, closing up my book.
"There's really no time to ask questions, Lyd. I need you to go pack a few bags. Grab whatever clothes you can, shoes, toiletries, the works," she instructed.
She looked tired. My mom was a strong, confident woman in her late thirties. She'd had me when she was seventeen, yet she still put herself through school and college, never stopping for a break, and she worked herself into a prominent field. She had my green eyes, and hers were normally filled with optimism and joy. Today, she just looked defeated.
She touches my dark curls, that of which I didn't inherent from her, and smiles at me.
"Are we going on vacation for the weekend?" I ask her.
"Sure, baby. A vacation. His dark hair suits your beautiful face than mine ever could," she says, softly.
I hated it when she talked about my dad. He'd died in the last war between the humans and mutants not too long after I was born. I could always see how sad she got when she mentioned him and it made me sad, as well. I hated being sad. I hated when she was sad. I sigh.
"You say that all the time," I say, not meaning to when I roll my eyes.
She smiles sadly, "You really should pack your bags. Quickly. Don't even change, we have to leave soon."
I sigh and get up, pushing my books and binder to the side. I walk up the stairs and into my room. I had mauve colored walls, a dark mahogany bedroom set, wooden floors and grey bedding with a grey rug. I had a kid sized bed and a desk covered in sketches and paint. The desk was the only messy area of my room.
I open my closet door and pull out my two black gym bags from cheer and soccer. I pull out a few articles of clothing from my closet, throwing them into one of the bags. I walk to the dresser and pull out clothes from there as well, my under clothes, more shorts and pants, even some socks. Once I pack all of it up, I walk into the bathroom connected to my room and grab my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, skin care items, hair care items, toothbrush and toothpaste. I just kind of grabbed whatever I saw and could carry.
When I finally had it all packed, I threw my hair back up into a high ponytail and shouldered both of my bags, grabbing a few more pairs of shoes and slipping on my black combat boots. I hold my phone in my hands, grabbing a charger on my way out. I glance around my room and something tells me that I might not see the room again any time soon.
Once I'm back downstairs, my mom is waiting on me by the door.
"We can stop for some food on the way there, if you're hungry," she offers.
"Yeah, that sounds good with me." I tell her.
She ushers me down the stairs of our home and into the car, taking my bags from me and throwing them in the trunk. She'd shut my door quickly before, though, not missing a beat. She got into the driver's seat, starting the car, and backed out of the driveway, slinging me around. She must have already been going forty miles per hour.
"Mom!" I scream, but she isn't slowing down.
"Don't worry, baby. I'm going to get you there safe, and soon," she assures.
"Safe?" I ask in disbelief, "This is what you call safe? Is there a mutant after us or something? Mom, talk to me."
She shakes her head, looking in the rear view mirror. I stare at her, waiting for a response but she just increases her speed.
"Mommy?" I ask.
She looks at me, and I have never seen her look like this. She was scared and determined all mixed into one.
"You're going to come to realize that it isn't the mutants you have to be afraid of, at least not all of them," she says.
"What are you talking about? You sound crazy."
"Just sit back, buckle up, and be quiet. I'm sorry, but I don't think we have the time to stop for food."
We drove all the way from Ohio to Pennsylvania, my mom pulling over only to stop at a gas station. She ran inside, buying me a bag of chips and a soda, then came back out to pump the gas. She kept looking around, back at the road behind us and in front of us. It was close to eleven now, we'd been on the road for over five hours. I got out to stretch while she filled up and her eyes land on me with anger.
"Get back in the car, Lydia!" she yells.
She'd never yelled at me before, "I-I'm sorry. I was just stretching. I'm sorry."
I say, getting back into the car. Her eyes soften but she doesn't apologize. She fills the tank and gets back in the car.
"We only have a little over more than three hours to go. They know you're coming," she says.
"I'm sorry, who knows I'm coming?"
"Just don't worry about it, Lydia. You'll be safe soon."
I fell asleep at some point. It was close to four in the morning now and we parked outside of a large home. My mom wasn't in the car with me anymore, but it was still running. She comes walking outside with two men, talking in hushed whispers.
"It's best I don't tell you, she won't understand unless she discovers it for herself. She's a good girl. The best girl. I don't know how they found her, but I trust you'll protect her," I hear my mom say.
I was so drowsy. My eyelids were heavy. I look down, groaning. It hurt to stay awake, to move. My eyes fall on an empty syringe and I glance at my arm. No way my mom drugged me. She wouldn't.
"Of course. She's in excellent hands here."
"I had to give her a mild sedative. She wouldn't stay here willingly without it."
What the hell was going on.
"We'll make sure she's taken well care of, Ms. Clark."
I hear the trunk opening, and I'm staring at the face of a man with dark facial hair and chiseled features. He's opening my door.
"Grab her, Logan, and make sure she's comfortable in her room," the other man's voice says.
Oh God, what was happening to me?
The man, Logan, grabs me and I try to protest but I can't. My eyes flutter open and closed. He situates me in his arms, my head resting on his shoulders. My eyes flutter again. They open and I see my mom, she's crying. I try to call out to her, but I can't. My eyes flutter. She's gone and I'm closer to the mansion. They flutter. I'm inside. Flutter. There are stairs and he's moving up them carefully, holding my head as he walked. Flutter. I'm being placed in a bed, he stares at me.
"It's nice to see you again, Lydia. I wish it were under better circumstances," he says.
They close.