[ Nebula's breath comes out her nostrils in one fierce blow - it's not a snort, but it's close enough. She knows now that their attempts to kill each other wasn't normal. Hell, she knew then. For every time she tried to desperately please their father and every time she'd hoped for her sister's hand only to be left to suffer. It wasn't normal, but for them there had been nothing more normal than the violence of their relationship. ]

It was how we were raised. [ A beat, with more forcefulness. ] It was all we knew.

[ Her mouth clenched. ] Our Father had us fight each other in battle. Every day. For scraps, for sleep. It didn't matter, only honing us as weapons. And having us act as sisters would not do, so he made sure we never would. Whoever lost would get a part of them replaced to perfect them - make them stronger in battle.

That's what he called it.

[ She does not say the word was torture. She does not say that she was the one who lost most often. It doesn't matter, he can infer as much. She just shrugs, like she's not sure what to say. ]

We were his weapons and his goal was to destroy half of the universe. "When things went to shit," means he succeeded by killing my sister. Rocket and I were the only ones left.