Hey guysssss, so this is a story that I've been working on for a while and I'm so excited about uploading it. This chapter's pretty short because it's the prologue but the next chapter is where things really start to happen so yeah, enjoy! Drop a review if you like it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel

For a girl who has never stepped foot on an aeroplane, moving fifteen thousand kilometres across the world is kind of a big deal.

My mother, on the other hand, could not be more thrilled.

"Stop sulking, hun," my mum teases, ruffling my hair like you would a twelve year old boy.

"Do we have to go?" Just thinking about it makes my stomach do backflips. "My whole life is here."

She turns away from the suitcase she's packing, casting a saddened look my way.

"Listen, Lyla, I know that it's scary moving so far away, but it's something I have to do. Yeah you'll be leaving all of your friends behind, but you can make plenty of new ones in New York."

Is she serious right now? Friends are not like a broken pencil, something you can replace without a second thought.

I shake my head, feeling the salty tears burn my eyes.

"Whatever," I mumble, swallowing back the lump in my throat. I down the last of my smoothie and begin my slow trek up the stairs to my bedroom. I can't delay the inevitable much longer.

My room is a complete mess when I walk in. My desk chair is buried under a mountain of clean laundry, my book shelf is topped with my Marvel figurines scattered chaotically, and my dresser has several empty moisturiser bottles and deodorant cans on display. My eyes shift to my bed where two fairly large open suitcases sit.

Only pack the necessities, my mum's words echo in my mind. The company she works for has an apartment, fully furnished, ready for us to move into in New York, so we're not shipping anything over, which also means that I'll have to leave a whole lot of my possessions behind.

I start with the clothes, more specifically the abundance of fabric on my swivel chair. Oh boy.

Forty-eight hours later and mum and I are lugging four crammed suitcases through the hallway in our apartment building in New York City. It's the middle of the night, yet the city is more alive than ever.

"Here we are," mum says, the excitement shining through her voice of exhaustion. She slides the key inside the hole and twists. A distinct click of the door unlocking sounds and mum pushes on the door, revealing our new home. Colourful lights from outside pour in through the windows, painting the walls rainbow.

It's so weird, staying in the city. I've always lived in a huge house in the suburbs, but now we're in a stuffy apartment with the sounds of traffic replacing those of ice cream trucks and chirping birds. I used to own a dog, but now we're not even allowed a pet fish.

"Get some sleep, hun. We've got a big day tomorrow," mum orders, finishing with a yawn.