Pre-Avengers and maybe pre-Thor. Haven't seen Thor so it may be inaccurate.

It was storming outside. I don't like storms. To be honest, they scare the hell out of me. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact I've been struck by lightning before. Not at all. Not that my sarcasm gives it away at all. I sighed as I sat beside the window. The rain was beautiful. It was my favourite weather. The storm, however… That I could do without. I had always tried not to make moping a habit but here I was, fourth time in the past week, wallowing in self-pity. The weather did not make it any better. But of course, should I expect any different from England? Nope. And why should I? I had heard of pathetic fallacy in my Literature classes during secondary school. It seemed to be taunting me. I didn't like that. There are a lot of things that I don't like. I don't like storms, for example. Another is pathetic fallacy. Then there's being taunted. That's number 3. Oh, and I don't like my condition. My condition being I can't fully die.

Yeah, strange, isn't it? You'd think, me being a human and all, I'd be able to accomplish that simple task. But apparently not. I can 'die'. But really, it's like I'm in a coma for a day or two and then I wake up, usually pretty sore. Worst case scenario, it's a month for me to fully recuperate. I haven't told anyone. Only my family know. They'd either think me a freak, try to use me, or badger me for the secret to eternal life. Well, it's full of complaints. And very dull. And very depressing too. I've tried suicide more times than I care to count. No one knows. I can't let anyone know. I am the middle child of a family that have only the children remaining. My parents died in a fire about 7 years ago. Now, it's me and my brother and sister. I'm only in contact with my brother.

I suppose that for this chapter of my life, I might as well explain everything to you. Well, I'll start from the beginning:

I was born in a desert. Nice, right? My mother had been heavily pregnant when an opportunity arose that she just couldn't decline. My father took her and my older brother, Colin, who was three at the time. They had apparently been searching for some sort of 'portal'. Perhaps a joke had been played because when they got there, there was no evidence of anything there. No burn marks, no indentations, no blood, nothing. On the way back, my mother's water broke and she went into labour shortly after. Apparently, I shot right out and landed in the sand. It burned my skin and I have scars on my back from it. They aren't the only scars but I'll get to that in a moment. Anyway, my brother got over the shock first and picked me up. My eyes had opened before my mother held me. You know how people say that when a baby opens its eyes, the first person they ever see, they fall in love with immediately? Unconditionally? Yeah, my mother never forgave Colin for that. She had wanted to be the first to look at my blue eyes, since all babies eyes are blue when born, and that had been taken from her. She all but snatched me from Colin's arms and sent him away. As soon as he had gone, I cried. Depressing for my parents, hm? My father didn't understand my mother's grief. Why would he? He didn't go through all of that pain only to have the joy taken away.

My bond with my brother was unbreakable from then on. We grew up with such a bond that nothing and no one could sever. I can still remember some of the games we used to play. Usually pranks, admittedly. I could never love anyone more than my brother. He was my best friend and my brother. When I was 2, my younger sister was born. Neither I nor Colin was allowed into the ward when Mother gave birth. Francesca was a stubborn child from the beginning. She wasn't spoiled but she didn't go down without a fight. We didn't get on from the start. I recall when I was 14 and she was 13. She had grown to be rather pretty actually. She had shoulder length red hair, flaming like embers, and her freckles decorated the whole of her face. Her eyes were a deep brown and she was short for her age. But the boys in her year loved her. She went through tonnes of boyfriends. Anyway, we had a little argument when she requested to wear my favourite dress to a date. I had asked who it was and she told me it was the most popular boy in her year. I made her promise not to wreck it. She promised. But she didn't keep it. When she returned, there was a large stain on the front that smelled like alcohol. It took me weeks to get it out. Father forced her to buy me a new one. She was very stubborn but Father talked her round.

When I was 16, I was struck by lightning. I died. And then I woke up. In a morgue. It was frightening, to say the least. I had run out and scared half the doctors to near death. I would have been amused if I had not been still getting over the shock. My doctor told me that I had been dead. Not a coma. I had no pulse, I was not responding and I was not breathing. I had tests done and eventually, they decided to try and kill me again. They shot me. It hurt like a bitch. And I woke up again. At first, I walked around like I was on top of the world. I got cocky. I regret that. I got three people killed because of my foolishness. It earned me more scars. I began to be more careful after that. It was 2 years later, when I was 18, Colin had to take Francesca out to buy some things. I was in my room when the fire started. The smell of smoke had polluted the entire house and I could hardly see. I had been screaming a lot. My voice was a bit dodgy after that. Father pushed me out of a window. He knew I wouldn't die and he did it to save me. I had always loved Father more than Mother. He didn't reject me or my siblings. Mother did. She never behaved the same way to me or Colin as she did to Francesca. I was the freak. Colin was the outcast. We licked our wounds together nearly every night. But that night, only I came out 'alive'.

After that, I tried to kill myself. I began with hanging myself. When that didn't work, I drove a car off a cliff. Instead, I was charged with insurance and vandalism and had to pay the price with more scars. I began to get desperate. I cut my wrists and my body, hoping the blood loss would kill me. It didn't. It resulted in all the more emotional and physical scars I would never show anyone. After many fruitless attempts, I resorted to the last two things that terrified me more than anything. First, I tried to burn myself alive. Then I tried to drown myself. Neither worked. So I just starved myself and did nothing for months. I sat in my room, refusing contact from anyone except Colin, and wallowed. My sanity had been shaken for a while and Francesca had moved onto bigger and better things than a freak of a sister. I found out recently she was a waitress in a seedy bar.

I should probably describe my siblings and I. Well, now that I'm 25, Colin is to be 29 soon and Francesca is 22. I have Francesca on Facebook but I never look at her profile. To be frank, her clothes disgust me. She's gotten into the 'duck face' craze. It creeps me out to be honest. Why do girls do that? What's so attractive about being a duck? Anyway, last I checked, her red hair was down to her elbows and her brown eyes still glinted evilly. She was still short and thin. Very thin. Not slim. Thin. She had no meat on her. She didn't have very large breasts and wasn't well gifted in the bum department. So she made up for it by wearing low cut tops and skirts (belts really) that hardly covered her underwear. Ugh. She was conniving, conceited and more words beginning with a 'c'. But not caring. Not courageous. Not charismatic. She could be charming when she wanted to though. It was sickening though. For all I know, she could have changed but, really, in the past month? I sincerely doubt it.

Colin, my darling brother, is nearly 29. I am very excited for his birthday. I was planning a party. But now, for his features. He's tall and well-built. He's the kind of guy that girls would wink at and maybe even swoon over. He was a bit of a flirt but he didn't lead anyone on. Colin has short brown hair that has a little curl at the fringe that I love to play with. He has dark brown eyes, like Francesca, but they're kind. They look like a dark chocolate gateaux. Okay, I like desserts. Shut up. Anyway, as I said he's tall and he's good-looking too, I shall not deny that. He is at least a head taller than me. He uses his height to tease me, which is highly unfair! But hey, he's my brother. He tends to wear sweatshirts and t-shirts with a pair of baggy jeans. He claims he doesn't like today's fashions yet last I saw him, he was wearing chinos and one of those irritating hats with the fluffy earflaps.

Now, for my own appearance and personality. Don't get excited. I look very similar to my brother. I have long brown hair, longer than Francesca's. It's down to my hips. I am quite tall as well. As I said before, Colin is a head taller than me and he's rather tall actually. So, I pride myself on my height. I am slim. Not thin. I am slim. I pride myself on my figure as well. I don't like to brag but if my emotions and my mind are a mess then I feel better when I see myself. It reminds me that I could be worse off. But my eye sight could be a little better. I have to wear glasses when I read. But really, nothing to complain about. Anyway, my eyes are a hazel. Brown and green. They both overpower each other. They are balanced in a strange way. Some people see them as merely vibrant brown eyes. Others see them as emerald green. But only Colin has seen them both. He's special. It makes sense; he was the first to see my eyes so it would only be right for him to see them truly. Now, my personality… Well, I suppose I'm a little hot-tempered. Not much but enough to let people know I don't just put up with stuff. I'm sensitive. Who wouldn't be? With all of the stuff in my hell-forsaken life, I deserve a little bit of sensitivity. I wear shirts and trousers mostly. If I have none, I wear a simple top with boot-cut jeans. And another thing. I stop aging tomorrow.

I had an appointment a couple of weeks back. They said that my aging had been slowing down dramatically. Don't even ask how they knew because I don't know. Hell, I didn't even know I wasn't aging anymore. Anyway, my aging stops tomorrow. Which means I'm pretty much immortal. I'll have to sit around, watching my brother age and die. Then I'll be alone. And that is the reason I am moping right now.

A knock at my door signalled to me that I was being silly. But was I? Sighing, I pushed myself off of the large windowsill and I plodded over to the dark wooden door. Upon opening it, I was met with someone I had not seen in a long while, with hair dripping from the rain. Someone I had not seen in 7 years. Francesca.

So, how was that for an introduction? I reckon that the history bit was alright but I don't like putting all of the past at the beginning. I did it with Madness of Being Solitary. It worked okay but I guess I like some mystery. Anyway, hopefully this was acceptable. Cheers folks. Adios.

Luna