Surviving My Avengers Life (Thor Love Story... kind of... you will see...)

My Life Before...

My name is Adalynn Noname. I have no last name because I am an orphan. At least that is what I grew up hearing. I had no parents. My mother died giving me life, and my father died trying to take my life. Leaving the hospital he crashed his car and the whole thing blew up.
          When first responders got to the wreckage there was not much left to see. A few twisted pieces of hot metal a baby and, unknown to others, an envelope tucked into the seat. No one could tell who was in the car, who the car belonged to, or who I was. No one thought to question how I survived with no injury.
          So they took me to the orphanage where they gave me the name Ada Lynn. When they filled out the papers at the orphanage, the woman’s handwriting was large and she forgot the space, so I became Adalynn Noname. The girl with no family, no home and no name.
          By the way, did I mention that I live in New York City? No? I didn't think so.
Growing up in a big city is no easy thing. In my part of town, if you do not grow up to be in a gang, you don’t grow up. I was an outcast and a misfit growing up. Most agreed I would be killed before I had a chance to grow up.
          That was my choices growing up. Give the wrong people my loyalty growing up so that I can survive. Become a mean-spirited, cold, untrustworthy and suspicious person. Or die.
          If it wasn't for this elderly couple a couple blocks away from the orphanage where I grew up, I would have.
          At a young age I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. No cared if someone didn't come home at night. They were just assumed dead and the police were contacted.
          Not in a hurry to get back to the orphanage one day I took the long way home. I don’t know why really. I just didn’t want to go back to the place where no one cares about me.
          Looking into a beautiful yard to my left, I saw an elderly man standing a long ways up on a ladder, cleaning out the gutters of the three story house. I could see that he was leaning too far over the side of the ladder, and that it was beginning to tip.
          Moving fast I vaulted over the white picket fence and raced across the yard, grabbing the ladder to steady it just in time for an elderly woman to come rushing out the front door, and see what I had done.
         After that day, if I wasn't at school learning, or at the orphanage sleeping, I was at the elderly couple’s house.

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          Standing in front of the, now not so white, picket fence, I smiled fondly. I had a lot of memories there. Learning the value of commitment and hard work in their garden every summer. Getting help making projects for school during the school year. I never needed help with homework because I never had any. I finished everything in class before the bell rang. I was at the top of my class and everything was easy for me in school.
          Sighing deeply, I took one last look at the house, which was as close to a home as I had ever gotten. The couple had died last winter. And now the house was uncared for and messy. A couple windows were broken in and weeds had taken over the yard choking out the flowers that had come back from last year. The paint was faded and it looked like no one had lived there for years.