Fighting Fate ~ Five H. x Reader ⚠️ DISCONTINUED ⚠️

Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven

Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven by Vanya Hargreeves
Tw: sh, suicide attempt

Chapter 8: Number Eight

Number Eight. She, too, did not take a name. Father was impressed with Eight as soon as they started training. She would spend most of her time in her room. Nobody knew why, it was just the way it was. No one dared question it. Not even Father. 

She was quite brilliant though. Many times I would come into her room to keep her company while she di her homework packets. She particularly loved math and science. So much even that Father advance her studies further.

The first time Eight discovered her powers, she was scared. Which was when she began trapping herself in her room. Father would push and push, but she wouldn't budge. No, not even a finger. She refused to use them with all her will. This would cause trouble, though no one knew what Father did except me. There was a room downstairs specifically for her, and every time she refused to used powers, he would lock her down there. Days on end without eating nor drinking, she stayed in the cold.

It wasn't until one day that I found exactly why she hide in her room. Everyone went on to train, so I decided to wait for her in her room, but when I opened the door she was changing. And I saw it. Scars all over her arms and thighs. Some deep some shallow. Her eyes widened at me when she found me staring at her scars.

"What happened?" I asked with worry

"It's quite nothing Vanya, leave" She would demand

I only later on connected the dots. She locked her self in her room, wouldn't eat most nights. She had chronic depression. 2 times a week a man in a white rob would come to out house and go to Eights room with Pogo and Father. And I decided to see what it was about. Putting my ear to the door I heard:

"She suffers from sever chronic depression. I can prescribe medication for her, but you need to take all sharp items and remove them from her room, she is in danger of herself"

"No I am not, it was an accident. I swear!" She cried

"Now number Eight, do not interrupt an adult" Father scold

"But it's the truth, I do not need medications! Please, I promise I'll stop!" She begged

It only got worse after that.

One day while they got their umbrella academy tattoo's I drew on mine as to not feel excluded. Eight wasn't with the rest though, but only I and Father knew why. But once Luther found out she was getting "special treatment" as he put it, he marched into the other room. As he would when he would get jealous of people when he wasn't getting treated better than the rest.

"Number One!" Father screamed at him

But he, for once, did not obey him. He marched in the door to see Eight's sleeve rolled up as the tattoo artist worked. He saw all the scars she hide everyday. He saw all her weaknesses that were printed, only for her to see. But he did not care, no. He only cared for himself and Allison. He would constantly tease her for it calling her, weak, and pathetic. 

Dose after dose, she got prescribed better and higher dosages. Only making her numb and tired. She could not concentrate on one subject, she was gone. No longer did Ben and I hang out with her, for it was to hard. We felt guilty for this, of course, but what were we to say? Nothing we said would've even gone in an ear. It was hopeless.

But now I look back and wish I would've done something. She was in pain and I only contributed it.

After Five left, Eight began to use her powers more. Causing her to have nightmares everyday. She did not do it for Five though, she did it because Father pushed her too. She was weak and could no longer continue resisting. She could no longer fight back, she gave in. We all did at a certain point. Father believed she could do more than she did, but it only made things worse for her mind.

I would often wake up to her screams, rushing over to cradle and comfort her. Telling her it's okay, and it was only a bad dream. And we would fall asleep, only for her to scream herself awake again. After a while, I stopped listening to her screams, because they only got louder and more frequent.

Ben died 3 years after Five left. He had killed himself. Cut his stomach open. And when Father told us this. It was began a new era of hopelessness for Eight. We would constantly have doctors over for her. Overdosing, slitting her wrist, drowning herself, and even more. I did not even know how her heart kept her alive. I walked in on her screaming, thinking it was another dream, but she was crying hysterically. She fell to the floor, foaming out her mouth, sweating as she was slowly slipping away.

"HELP! MOM! POGO! HELP!" I screamed and screamed

Pogo, Father and Mom walking over. And the rest of the children waking up to see Eight on the floor, seeming to be seizing.

"Eight!" Diego shouted, only to be pushed back by Pogo as he closed the door in our faces.

Try after try, she was not able to let go. Her body fought every time as the metal paddles hit her skin. She was in pain, and I remember myself saying to her:

"I'm sorry you're still here, you do not deserve the pain that is life. I wish you would just go so you could rest easy. Eight, I love you, just let go. Let go, be free, it's okay"

Sobbing as my tears hit her face, waiting for the doctors to arrive for the tenth time that year. I couldn't bear it any longer. I had to leave.

But I toke Eight with me, sending her to rehab. After 3 years she was better, healthy, happy. She joined the FBI, leaving me once again alone in a house as she got her own.