I am not like most girls. It's a bare, basic statement. Ironically, one that's quite common among females, especially when attempting to acquire attention from the fairer sex. What? To me, most men have always seemed pretty and pretty equals fairer. It makes sense to me. Lets just agree to disagree, if you don't follow my logic. It's completely besides the point and utterly inconsequential to the subject matter. I said I wasn't like most girls, when I should have said, I'm not like most humans. Yeah, now we're stretching the concept out there. Dipping our toes in the pool of weirdness, so to speak. However, my words couldn't be more true. Sure, on the surface, I'm just like anybody else. I have a mother (Ava), father (Antonio), three brothers (Victor, Kevin and Chris, all older than me) and a cat, named Snicklefritz and yes, I'm dead serious about the name. I grew up in a colonial style home, in a small suburb located within Providence, Rhode Island and while my home life wasn't perfect, I don't have any deep seeded traumatic, psychological scars either. Life was typical, average, sometimes even boring. Just a bit louder than most cause I grew up in a quintessential, Italian household. Meaning the love was always there, the volume was only turned up a tad. My mother was a stay-at-home, type of mom. Loved to cook, take care of her family and occasionally garden. My father, built his business from the ground up. He was and still is just your average, blue collar plumber. The business runs in the family too, so it is a requirement or rather mandatory law to learn the trade once you reach a certain age. Needless to say, by the time I hit seventeen, I could unclog pipes like nobodies business. Wow that sure came out dirtier than I intended! I was good at the family trade is really all I meant by that, I made for a skilled plumber.


Despite growing up this way and learning life in these standards, I didn't really develop from these roots. You see, I was adopted. For most of my life though, I didn't know this fact about myself. I grew up fully instilled in the aspect that my family was my family, case closed. I never doubted it for one second. Not that it was ever brought to my attention, on purpose but the question wasn't even a thing that drifted onto my mind, so it's not like I was going to start inquiring about the matter. It was a done deal. Information that was set in stone. However, the truth of the situation was this, I had been left on the doorstep. That's right. Just like a baby shaped newspaper. I was put on my parents doorstep and left behind to become someone else's burden, or present, or whatever might be the thought behind that insane plan. Upon sight, my mother became stricken with heartache and saw it as her duty to save the tiny, baby version of me, so that's what she did. When my mother sets out to do something, it gets done. Period. It took time naturally and a lot of tedious legalities but when everything was said and done, I was adopted and from that day forward became known as Abigail Monroe. Which was fine with me but I was also a baby at the time, staring at keys was also fine for me. Not to discredit their valiant efforts that ultimately led to successfully adopting me, I'm just saying I was a very easy to please baby, or so I was told. Obviously, leaving out the whole "Hey, we found you on the doorstep." portion of the scenario.


This of course, brings us to how I found out that I was adopted and that I, Abigail Monroe wasn't like most humans, let alone girls. Well, it all came about one day, when I decided to go for a swim at our local community pool. The night was warm, I knew the place would be dead at this hour, I like swimming; especially during this time, all solid reasons to make the trip. I grab my suit, a towel and drive there, without a care or trouble on my mind. Make it there within fifteen minutes as the place wasn't far from my apartment, change and head on through the basically deserted swimming facility towards the pool area, fairly feeling pleasant and content with the entire situation. Then I hit the water and it all changes. Literally. I feel a weird sensation and suddenly, I can only describe this feeling as not being quite whole but with the complete realization of everything around me. The next thing I know, I'm naked and in the sewer. That's correct. I started out in the pool and wound up naked and in the sewer. Talk about a mind fuck. Understanding it from an outsider's perspective is one thing, try living through it.


There I stood, in a total state of "what the actual fuck" and that's when I raise my hands, where two hands should be, there are now two streams of water. Sort of idly flowing in place. Not reaching past my head but still in constant motion. I'm not sure what to make of this bizarre sight at the time of its occurrence but I'm freaked out and it only keeps getting worse. There's a drainage pipe nearby though. Totally gross but I'm losing my bearings and all I can think about is getting out of the sewer. I want to go home. I NEED to get to the safety and security of my home. The next thing that happens, the next thing that my conscious mind allows me to perceive is feeling my body shift and instantaneously, I'm jettisoned out of my toilet, like a rocket shooting into orbit. I collide against the wall with a splash and crash to the floor. Hard. In complete solid form after hitting the wall like a fire hydrant was opened up in my bathroom. Naked but too afraid to even move cause who knows what might happen next? I spend the night there, in total shock. The only thing that snaps me out of this is the sound of the garbage truck rolling down the alley and past my window, when daylight arrives and morning breaks the dark.


Crawling across the floor, I use the sink to lift myself up and stare, wide eyed and shaking into the mirror. I seemed solid enough. Maybe it was all a hallucination? Possibly, I was losing my marbles? It could have been fumes that I breathed in while at work? That could be the reason why I was trembling and naked in the bathroom, staring at my own horrified reflection? These thoughts send me on a haphazard, beeline course through my apartment and into my bedroom. No phone. No keys. No purse. Those things are back in a locker at the pool and I know this, frightfully with absolute clarity. Which means everything that I experienced while I was there, actually happened and that sewer stench was me. Wonderful. With a deep breath I lift my arm and look at just my index finger. Baby steps, right? Nope. Nothing happens. I attempt everything too. I think of water, try to clear my frazzled thoughts to no avail and even say something along the lines of "Water activate." I'm not sure why but it seemed like a good idea at the time. However, nothing works. The fear and shock are wearing off by now though, so I go into the kitchen and run the tap, to obtain a glass of water and that's when it hits me. I look at the water and hold my hand up, whilst only projecting my attention upon a single digit and slowly, my finger turns from flesh and bone, into water. Then I allow my gaze to traverse down my hand, to my wrist and again, the transformation from solid human hand to water takes place. Stuck in one spot, attached to my arm as a part of me was a fixed portion of water, that remained in continuous motion.


This time I'm not afraid. No, this time, I'm fascinated. Stretching my hand outward, I push internally with all my might and an immense blast of water crashes against the wall. Knocks a painting down and sends a small tidal wave onto my kitchen floor and I start to laugh. I don't know why but what seemed scary once, now was thoroughly entertaining. Hilarious even. Raising my other hand, I joined both of my hands together and repeated the process. The burst of water is intense and resembles the outtake of a fire hose. Soaking the wall almost in its entirety in the process. Seriously soaked. Drenched. Some of the wallpaper is even peeling off. That's how forceful the blast of water was, it started taking away the wallpaper and revealed the terrible paint job below. I wasn't finished though. This time would be epic. I separated my hands and stretched them outward from my body, palms facing the wall and just let go, releasing everything internally almost akin to the concept of switching on a valve. The outcome was catastrophic and included a hole in my wall. A hole about the size of a bowling ball but still a hole, nonetheless. It was then I decided that my apartment wasn't the right place to practice this sort of thing. The bowling ball sized hole in the wall, splinters of wood, plaster, paint and wallpaper all over the place wised me up. Not to mention the small flood that was occurring in not one but two rooms now.


That's when I knew and I mean really, solidly knew and understood that I wasn't like most humans. Although, if I wasn't like most humans, then what did that mean? What did that make me? I was aware of the news reports and sightings about town and random places of the world, dealing with extraordinary beings that existed right here on Earth. Aliens, advanced humans, supernatural beings of mythical proportions, they seemed to be stepping out into the light everyday but I couldn't be a part of that, could I? I was different, yes but how different was I? What was I? I didn't know; however, I would find out this answer, two weeks from that moment. When I decided to take practicing my gift, to the next level and traveled to the Providence River.


I was getting good at this craft, I figured it was time, I mean I even knew how to remanifest my clothes by this point. It was definitely time. So I waited until it was dark out and the hour was very late and I made the journey. It was amazing! I could transform into water, travel through the river at amazing speed; both in solid or water form, control the water and even pull it out of the river into various shapes. I just never expected an audience. Let alone the audience that I would receive. Deeply concentrated in my special craft, I was lost in my own little world. The one around me ceased to exist but that all would be abruptly changed when I heard the clapping. I was a deer in headlights, when I pivoted around and I saw him. Tall, slender, incredibly handsome, with eyes that burned with a touch of fire and raven hair, billowing behind him in the breeze. It was the spaceman. Mr. Satellite. Savior of the universe and defender of the masses. Mr. Supernova. The man that came from the stars. Azrael Erebus.


I had seen him on the news before but never up close. Lets just say, the whole thing was rather overwhelming and sent me straight for cover within the river. When I heard the laughter, it made it all the worse. I still remember the look on his face as he leaned over and spoke directly into the river and asked, why I was hiding. To which I responded the only way that seemed satisfactory at the time, I shot an enormous current of water directly up at him. Strong enough to send him flying high up into the air, before landing with a thud on the pavement. This wasn't followed by anger. No, instead the fearless universe traveler, merely remained on his back, eyes fixed onto the night sky as he roared with laughter. His focus only changing when I completely rose to the surface, took to land in solid form and stood above him. This would become the start of a wonderful friendship. One that would answer all my questions and aid with my journey into becoming the woman I am today. I would learn that I was a Water Elemental, that my kind was of an ancient sect of beings, powerful, unyielding and true. Knowledge that I would use to give me the courage that I needed, when I required bravery and spoke honestly with my parents. Strength when they told me they already; in a way, knew the truth. Compassion to accept their reasons to hold back information and still love them unconditionally. And willpower, to fully embrace who I am today, giving me the drive and ambition to uncover even more about myself. Water Elementals are complex, commanders of the deep and rulers of the water. Why would I strive for anything less?