Click. Click. Click.

The sound echoes throughout the lobby, and I press my fingers into my temples to alleviate the annoyance and bubbling insanity from the past hour of this. A part of me can't help but wonder what all the people that pass by think of me. A teenager with a sour expression, sunglasses indoors, and a glare pointed at anyone who dares to meet her eye.

Maybe mum was right to send me here. I know things have been rough since the incidents, but I suppose this was her best option. It's just hard to process. I haven't exactly been myself lately—and I'll be the first to admit my power is out of control. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing my best—especially under everyone's expectations for me and my abilities.

Everyone thinks I'm going to be a hero—that I'll be something exceptional. They all think I'll live up to the names created for people like me. Names like ExtraOrdinary, inhuman, mutant, and—my personal favorite—Remarkable, but somehow, I don't think those terms quite describe me.

I tolerate Remarkable, or REM as most people call it for short, but it's the only one that feels a little bit right. Nothing about me is 'normal,' and I don't mean it in the way most people do. I'm genetically different from the majority of humanity. Even the ones like me were born with abilities or had genetic markers that later enabled a scientific phenomenon to make them one.

In a way, both of those happened to me. My entire life, Mom always told me I'm special, which is one way to put it. Mostly because from the day I was born, everyone knew that there was something different about me, and not just because of the eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing all at once. I could barely see a thing most of the time, and any and all forms of light would cause me to screech in pain. Even now, I still have to wear the stupid glasses in most lighting, but that wasn't all.

Of course, as a kid, I didn't quite understand. I thought that every kid could do what I could. The first day of pre-school was an abrasive life lesson on that matter. Because while other kids played with imaginary friends, I played with the shadows that molded into whatever I wanted or dreamed of.

Then the accident happened, and everything was turned upside down. I lost control. I lost control over everything and myself somewhere along the way.

It sends a deep ache in my chest and brings me back full circle to thinking maybe this is why mum sent me here ahead of time. She knows how much Dad has been helping me these past few months. Even with not meeting until I was almost eight, we've become thick as thieves—especially recently.

He has been the only one who I feel like understand me and that I can talk to. It's hard to talk to someone about the nightmares, the haunting feelings, and the lack of identity. There's no one else who has been through anything remotely similar to me except him.

It took a while. Mostly because there's always been this distance between us. He didn't even know about me for most of my life, and when that changed, he already had a life and business. It took time for us to really connect and have time together.

Now, I'm sitting in the lobby of Stark Tower waiting to be picked up. Dad told me on the phone yesterday he had some big surprise waiting for me after I got in. I can't stop the panic rolling through my chest that he's not gonna show up at all. My feet keep tapping out a beat that interacts with the receptionists keystrokes.

Anxiety keeps running through my veins with every minute that passes. Dad was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Yet, time keeps ticking by with no sign of him. I keep glancing at my phone with a desperate hope that he'll call or text to say everything is perfectly okay. But each time I find nothing, my heart drops a little more.

Rushed footsteps break my string of thought, and I look up from my blank screen to see Dad looking frantically around. When he spots me, a wide grin spread across his face, which makes on creep across my own features. "There you are, bug. I'm sorry for being late, but I wanted to come pick you up myself."

A laugh escapes me as I instinctively tug down on my shirtsleeves and tuck my arms around myself. "It's okay, Dad. I'm just glad you're here." I let out a nervous laugh as I try to bite back the tears at finally seeing my dad after what feels like an eternity—even though it's only been a week. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, bugs." He tells me with arms stretched out to give me a hug before he thinks better of it. "Come on, we should get going. I'm sure you're tired, and I'm anxious to show you your surprise."

"As long as there's a way for me to nap. I'm all in." I retort with a grin and swing my duffel bag over my shoulder, which he eyes curiously. "Mum is bringing the rest when she comes in a few weeks."

He just nods his head and reassures me as we head out to his parked sports car by saying, "Well, if you need anything before then, I can always get it for you, kiddo." I shake my head at him and watch him as we drive.

It's really hitting me just how much I've missed him. These past few months have quite possibly been the worst in my life, but the chance to finally spend time with my dad makes it seem a little bit better. I can feel like I can breathe a little better. "What are you staring at, bug?" Dad asks me with his trademark grin.

"My dad." I tell him with a small chuckle. "I'm just really happy to be here with you. I've really missed you. Mum and I haven't been seeing eye to eye lately after everything. Jim won't even look at me. It's nice to be around someone who understands."

"I may not get everything that's happened or you're going through, but I promise to be here for you. As for your mom, I'm sure she's just shaken up and unsure of what to do. She really loves you, bug, and she sent you here cause she thought it would be best for you."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself." I mumble and stare down at my fidgeting hands. "It's just hard since we've usually been close." A single tear slides down my face, and I struggle to contain the rest. "What if she thinks I'm some sort of monster? Or some freak that can't even manage a sliver of control? I hurt my friend."

Dad sighs, and I can see the struggle on his face as he keeps himself from taking my hand. It hurts so much more that he can't. I mean, he could if he wanted a shock nearly equivalent to a lighting bolt coursing through him. "I never got the full story on what happened. I'm not gonna pressure you into telling me what happened, but whenever you're ready, I'm right here."

"Depends. Which incident do you wanna hear about? The one that made people look at me with pity or the one that made them stop looking all together?" I know I'm being blunt and dour, but it's hard to be positive in these conversations. "Because trust me, neither of them are pretty or have a happy ending that I know of."

"Whichever one that talking about will make you feel better. I know you haven't had many chances to tell your side of the story lately. Plus, it's gonna be a long ride."

"Fine." I cross my arms and sink as far into my chair as I possibly can. "I don't know why you wanna hear more. I'm sure you've heard everything already. It was raining; Jim and I had an argument. He looked away for a split second and barely drifted into the other lane. Another car came, we swerved and went off the bridge. After that, my tech went crazy, I blacked out, and end of story."

"Lia," Dad draws out the sounds of my name, which cues me to mentally prepare for dad mode, "we both know that's not the whole story. You only told me pieces in the hospital, but I know there's a whole lot more than that."

I close my eyes and try to not relive that moment. 'Try' being the key word; 'failing' as the end result. There's no fighting it, and I know that my mouth forms the words to describe one of the two worst nights of my life.

The rain was pouring down heavier than normal. I triple checked the tarp to make sure my project was entirely covered before we headed out. I wanted none of it could be exposed to the utter downpour outside. Jim patted me on the shoulder and reassured me it would all be fine.

I was so nervous. My project was an experimental redesign of my dad's clean energy system. The far-fetched hope with the science fair project is that in the future it could potentially replace fossil fuels entirely.

It weighed a ton in my arms as Jim led us out to his lended van from his work. He made sure to hold an umbrella over us to keep from getting sick. We both knew mum would murder us if we did. I just wish we had gone home sick that night instead of the alternative.

The battery seemed stable when we left. I even remember doing everything I could to make sure it wouldn't tip over when we turned. It was fine, but I kept turning to check on it the entire drive.

That's when we started arguing. I don't even remember what it was—probably just a stupid disagreement. Jim was just so angry. His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel, eyes so full of frustration as he looked at me for that fraction of a second. The next thing I know, headlights are glaring through the windshield, another car was honking, and Jim swerved.

It was so quiet like the world was put on mute all of the sudden. My stomach just dropped when I saw the water. I hit my head on the dashboard when we made impact.

"After that, it was all freezing water and panic before I blacked out." I lie, but no one really knows the rest. Even saying that much out loud physically hurts. "The other one, I don't think I'm ready to talk about. Not sure if I'll ever be."

I rub my temples and nod at my Dad's gratitude and encouragements. Most of it is lost in the throbbing in my skull. "Hey, you know I'm proud of you no matter what. You know that, right?"

"Always, Dad." I tell him with a soft, pain-laced smile. "So—what's the big surprise?"

"Why don't you look out the window and find out?" He smiles and watches me in between glances at the road. I shake my head at him and stare out the window. The sight makes my jaw drop in surprise.

In front of me is the grand, looming white building of the Avengers facility that Dad talked so much about. My hand presses against the glass window, and I analyze every inch of the sight with a hungry gaze to take in every detail for myself.

The building glows against the darkening sky, and it sends a wave of awe through me. I know it was an old Stark facility, but whoever the architect was did a phenomenal job. "It's amazing." I whisper in complete wonder.

"Well, I'm glad." Dad tells me as he throws the car into park. "'Cause it's gonna be your home for a while. It would be a shame if you didn't like it."

My feet crunch against the gravel, and I suddenly wonder what life is going to be life here. School will start up fairly soon, and we're not exactly near the city—or anything really. Mum didn't give me many details, but the way things were put my assumption is that there won't be anything like that. No school, no social life, just training—all the time.

I push the thought back to worry about in the morning. For now, all I can think about is the plush mattress waiting for me and hours of sleep, but the thought keeps tugging at me. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room, then we can do a grand tour if you're up for it."

"Yeah." I force a smile on my face and drop my bag from my shoulder in my new room. "So—um—how long am I living here before we go back to the city? I mean, it's still a couple months until school, but I was just curious if we were going earlier to get settled."

Dad lets out a sigh and leans against the doorway as I drop my bags to the floor. "C'mon, bug, I know that your mom talked to you about it."

"I just—" I pause and tug my stretched-out sleeves down for the millionth time, "—I just thought that maybe you would change your mind, and I could go to school. You know, be somewhat normal."

"I'm not having this argument with you, Lia." His voice grows angry, eyes almost closed in frustration. "As for the other situation, the plan is for you to stay here."

"For how long?" I bristle and bite back in anger.

My dad visibly tenses at the question. "Indefinitely."

"Are you serious?" I shout, frustrated with the whole thing. "So I'm just trapped here twenty-four seven until further notice? Until I have whatever freakish new ability I didn't ask for under control? How is that fair?"

"It's not!" He shouts back; then when he realizes that his shouting only makes this worse, takes a second to calm himself down. I scoff, at least he knows not to push me further. "It's not fair, Lia—to any of us. I just need you to work with me on this. I know it sucks, but we have to keep you here until you have yourself under control."

"To avoid further 'incidents,' right? And tell me something. Can we at least figure out a time frame? A deadline for me to work with?"

"We can talk about that when you calm down." He tells me without even a glance over his shoulder before he leaves and closes the door behind him. The frustration bristles against my spine, and I want to scream.

I resort to pulling my hair more upset with myself for lacking control than anything else. It's been driving me crazy from the moment it happened.

I mean, when I was five and my shadow abilities started manifesting, it wasn't long before I could learn how to truly manipulate them in startling detail with a flourish and finesse. The energy bursts, those are something beyond me. They flare up with my highest emotions—joy, anger, anything that is overwhelming and powerful. Not to mention, no one can touch me without getting zapped. If they dare to, there has to be at least a hefty layer of something between us, but even then there will be a shock.

Still, if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be here, which I'm not sure is a good or bad thing at the moment. Right now, my anger makes me want nothing more than to sneak out and screw the consequences. I settle for throwing my clothes into drawers until I can finally settle down enough to go outside and make a good impression on the team.

Especially because I'm going to be here for a long while.

"Stop it, Lia." I scold myself and snap the rubber band on my wrist. "Focus on something else. You can't let it take control."

My breaths are still ragged and uneven as the emotions and energy continue to build up beneath my skin. I try to tell myself to focus—on anything. The soft fabric of the duvet that covers my bed, the picture of Trish, Will, and I at the festival, but none of it works to dispel the blinding flurry of energy building up in my head.

I swear my heart stops for a second when I catch the glimpse of my reflection in the blank TV screen. A strange glow that seems to be emanating from my skin. There's nothing else that runs through my head as I yank open my door and run—past the people in the kitchen and to somewhere safe.

The sounds of my panicked footsteps in the small stairwell fill my ears. My vision tunnels in front of me until all I see is the emergency exit doors and soon after, the wide open field. Someone shouts from behind me, and I barely manage to scream out a warning. "Please, stay back. I don't want to hurt you."

My feet lead me around the building in a full sprint despite the deep ache that emanates from my bones. Tears build in my eyes as I falter for a second. All I can see in front of me is flashes of a London alley, the view from the windshield on the night of the accident, both which layer over one another in a blend of police lights and siren noises.

Pressure builds inexplicably beneath my skin and behind my eyes. I can feel the tears stinging tracks down my face. My own heart pounds out of sync with my struggling breaths; it threatens to give out under the pain and weight.

Then, all at once, everything turns cold and covered by a veil of shimmering white.

I've gone supernova again.