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Cecily Hill

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Cecily Hill had always known she was different. From a young age, the thoughts of others echoed in her mind as if they were spoken aloud. It wasn't long before the dreams began—vague, blurry visions that always felt distant, yet each one unfolded in reality with startling accuracy.

In the summer of 1981, 12-year-old Cecily went downstairs to find a man seated with her mother in the living room. "Hello, Cecily," he greeted, his voice calm, but she simply stood there, staring at him in silence.

"Cecily, where are your manners?" her mother scolded, but the man intervened gently. "It's quite alright," he said. Cecily's voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "Are you here to take me away?" The man chuckled softly and rolled his wheelchair closer. "No, Cecily," he reassured her. "My name is Charles Xavier, and I run a school for people like us."

Cecily's suspicions and curiosity flickered in her gaze. "People like us?" she repeated, unsure of what he meant.

Charles smiled warmly, his presence calming. "Yes. People with extraordinary abilities—abilities that the world doesn't yet understand. You've struggled with yours, haven't you? The voices, the dreams, the things that move without explanation."

Cecily nodded, her mind racing. She had always felt so alone like something was wrong with her.

"I can help you," he continued, his tone patient but firm. "At my school, you'll learn to control your powers, to understand them, and to realize you're not alone."

Her mother, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, her voice trembling. "Will she be safe there?"

"Safer than anywhere else," Charles replied. "We'll teach her, protect her, and prepare her for a world that may not always be kind to those who are different."

Cecily looked at her mother, searching her face for a sign of what to do. Her mother, though fearful, nodded gently, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and resignation.

The drive to Westchester was quiet. Charles didn't press Cecily for details about her past; she was grateful for it. Instead, he told her about the school, about the other students who had powers like hers. He spoke of a place where she could finally find peace and learn to control her abilities and use them for good.

When they arrived, Cecily stared up at the sprawling mansion before her. "I can't stay here," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Charles turned toward her, his gaze gentle. "And why's that?" he asked.

"What if I break something?" she murmured, her eyes downcast, worry clouding her thoughts.

Charles rolled closer, offering her a reassuring smile. "Anything you break, Cecily, I can fix," he said softly. "You're here to learn, not to be perfect. Mistakes are part of the journey."