George was a girl born with adamantium claws.
Nobody was quite sure how she got them — the closest George ever received to body-altering surgery was for a badly skinned knee in grade four — but whatever the case, her forearms were impregnated with six and a half inches of a nearly indestructible metal alloy. Unlike Wolverine, George did not possess huge stamina, strength or rapid healing powers, only the claws — and even these she couldn’t control, because they would only come out when she was feeling upset, and would only retract once she’d calmed down.
George spent a lot of her time with her claws out. She’d be sitting down at home and reading a book or watching TV when there would come the bright metallic sching of metal on metal and suddenly the last chapter would be in pieces on the floor, or the couch would be bleeding stuffing. This was, as you can imagine, a problem, because six and a half inches of sharpened adamantium don’t require an awful lot of force or finesse to slice through pretty much anything, including human flesh. George’s lack of control over her claws and their sheer destructive capability was a serious issue at school where no one wanted to sit near the weird girl who could kill them with a careless gesture. And so George spent most of her lunch-times alone, scratching sadly at the criss-crossed pavement.
Her parents were desperate that she should lead a ‘normal’ childhood, and so they approached the greatest medical professionals in the country, asking them to help their child. But every one of them shook their heads at George’s condition and sent them away with a regretful murmur, saying that any operation undertaken to remove the metal from George’s arms would almost certainly render her forelimbs useless. Unable to knowingly consign their child to such a fate, George’s parents watched on helplessly as she grew more and more isolated from those around her and spent more and more time staring angrily at her claws. It didn’t help that the kids at school would tease her relentlessly in order to make her upset and force out the claws, which they never tired of.
Eventually, George realized that the claws weren’t going anywhere, and that she would have to live with their presence and constant unspoken threat every moment of her life. One morning, she woke up and defiantly dressed in the clothes she wanted to wear, and did her hair the way she wanted it to be done, and boldly walked to school. At school, everyone looked at her strangely, and some even came up and told her that what she was wearing wasn’t meant for boys like her and called her unpleasant names.
She realized as this went on all day and then all week and then all year that before this that nobody had bothered to look past her claws and consider her as a person. It was only now that she’d broken one of their rules — their really important rules, the ones on which their whole world view rested on — that she had stopped being invisible.
Image credit jakobdam on DeviantArt