I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine. SEBASTIAN FAULKS
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MARIA JANE GLORIANA O'HARA WAS AN ACCIDENT. Being the byproduct of an affair, she already knew what she was the second she was birthed into this cruel world. Her father told her multiple times. Maria Jane O'Hara is a tick in the scope of the bigger picture. The little crack in the wall you try to cover up but know it's always there. A fly caught in the paint of someone's masterpiece. She was never meant to be here. And for that, she will always suffer for it.
Maria Jane can't remember the last time she was "home." All she remembers is that she was eating dinner on her brother's couch with her younger one's head on her lap. The three were just watching the television when a lot of people in white suits came busting in, her brother yelled for her to run and BAM! There she was, standing on the rooftop of some random building, staring up at a jumbotron replaying a familiar figure sporting a white and pink suit in Times Square. Problem: Nueva York didn't have those. At least...not since the "Heroic Ages."
No, Maria Jane! Run! Don't come back, she hears her brother shout and so she never tried, spending the rest of her days doing just that — running through the gaps of what space and time chose for her. Whether it be because some higher power chose her or just out of pure dumb luck, Maria Jane didn't care. She couldn't. This life didn't give her the luxury of time — only running in an infinite loop with each new universe blending together to the point where she can't differentiate them from one another.
