They call me the Ice Queen.

In another life, long ago, I was called Elsa. My name is one of the many things from my past that I cling to. I remember my old home in the Norwegian city of Arendelle, the room I shared with my younger sister Anna and my two loving parents. But nothing is clearer than the sound of Anna's scream. I was sent away from home when my sister was no older than twelve but I hear that sound every night when I lay down to sleep.

The night they discovered my problem was warm and clear. The sky was lit with the Aurora Borealis and my sister and I were talking and whispering to each other, long past our bedtime. Anna liked telling ghost stories when the lights went out, even though she knew I hated them. I forgot the story she told that night but I remember the sound that made her stop talking.

It was a creaking sound, like a footstep on a loose floorboard. The sound came from under my bed. Anna was sat bolt upright as she looked across the room at me. She hesitantly looked down to the source of the sound and my heart leapt into my throat when I saw her eyes open wide in fear. The creaking continued, growing louder with each tense second. I looked down to the floor and saw a sheet of white creeping along towards my sister's bed. A flicker of light from the lit sky outside revealed what substance coated the floor.

Ice

I looked back up at Anna just in time to see her mouth open and let out an ear-piercing scream. Seemingly reacting to the noise, icy spikes shot up from the floor between my sister and me. I jumped off my bed and ran towards Anna, but the spikes grew higher and higher until they touched the ceiling, creating a wall of ice that prevented me from reaching her. Through the ice wall in front of me, I saw an inhuman and snow white hand creep out from under Anna's bed and reach for her. I screamed her name as the door opened and both of our parents stood in the archway, the looks of shock and fear on their face distorted through the ice that blocked my path. The ice quickly began to melt as soon as they stumbled upon the scene, along with the hand grabbing for Anna. My parents ran to her and tried to calm her screams. I will never forget the look that my father gave me in that moment, knees soaked from the water on the floor and shoulder soaked from Anna's tears. It was the look of complete fear. My mother couldn't look at me and when I looked down at myself I realized why. The water on the floor was frozen solid around my feet, forming a star-shaped platform that was no wider than my shoulders. My hands were as pale as could be and sharp icicles had sprouted from my fingernails. I tried to move, but all I could do was stare. Before I could comprehend my actions, I was running towards my parents, kinetic energy flowing through my feet and into the floor leaving a trail of ice behind me. I remember it as though it happened in front of me and I was merely a witness. I leapt at my father, his eyes widening at the sight of my elongated nails pointed towards his throat.

I felt a flash of pain from my right side and I was suddenly lying on the floor, looking back at my parents. My head throbbed and I shut my eyes to focus on dulling the pain. A grievous howl broke through my concentration, prompting me to look back to my family huddled over the bed.

My Mother was dead. An immense icicle had sprouted from the ground as she tried to save her husband from my unprovoked attack. She hung there limply, speared through the chest as my father knelt at her body. Blood coated the icicle above her and dripped from her lips as she spluttered nonsensical noise. My father held her face in his hands in an attempt to stop the life from leaving her eyes like the teardrops from his.

I make sure to thank him every day for my sending me away from Arendelle. The war hero Admiral Westerguard was appointed as my escort to a remote island in the Mediterranean Ocean. I arrived on the island a week later, having been kept in solitary confinement for the safety of the ship's crew. As soon as my feet touched the warm sand, I heard the firing of a pistol from behind me. Without my knowledge, a shield of ice formed behind me and blocked the ambush. I turned around to face the smiling Admiral standing no more than a few feet behind me as he began to explain his orders to me in full. He had been told to execute me for treason, but my...disparity...made that impossible. Instead, he offered to help control the storm inside me.

After three years passed, I had learned to control the bursts of freezing cold wind and snow that spewed from my body like an unwelcome infection. I learned to create sheets of frost that covered nearly the entire island. Stalagmites of ice rose from the ground at my command and snow rained from the sky. The Mediterranean became my home. I was thankful that I had an entire island to myself, save for my personal escort, where nobody was in the way of harm. Hans, as the Admiral told me to address him, was as impressed with my abilities as I was afraid and he would often coax me to try and create more. He always told me I needed to think of larger things, what I could do if I pushed a little bit further. But, every time he tried I heard the horrific screaming of my Father pierce the howling wind and I turned away in shame, trying not to release any more emotions into the air around me.

Whenever the storm died down, Hans would discipline me. No shields of ice rose up and no harm came to him. I relished the feeling of every lash, every crack of the whip. Whatever pain I felt couldn't come close to the unspeakable tragedy that I had felled upon my family. When the whippings finished, I thanked him. The Admiral had saved many lives by bringing me there.

Two months ago we left the island. The seas were rough, nature's representation of my own anxiety. The three weeks I spent in the small chamber felt like an eternity. Hans hadn't explained the purpose of our departure before I was hustled into my compartment and I feared for what lay ahead every waking moment. When Hans lead me outside the ship upon our arrival, my greatest fears were confirmed. He had brought me to an incredibly large city, with skyscrapers reaching incomprehensible heights and thousands of people milling about on the docks alone. I tried to retreat back to my confined area, but Hans steered me onwards. I repeated my mantra to myself as he directed me through the crowd.

Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know.

Hans introduced me to Commander Weselton, one of his military comrades. The Commander was small in stature, with grey hair slicked back across his tiny head and a bushy grey moustache perched atop his upper lip. It was easy to look at this man and see a small rodent, but he carried an aura of power and responsibility on his miniscule shoulders.

Hans explained to me that the Commander's orders were to help integrate me to society. According to my escort, there was much I needed to learn that simply couldn't be taught on the island. I was told I would be attending school in the autumn, staying with Commander Weselton in the meantime. Hans said he would keep an eye on my activities but that he had other matters to attend to.

I met Violet on my first day of school.