𝐖𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍, five hargreeves¹

𝟎𝟐 the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion

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⊹⊱ № 𝟎𝟐.𝟎𝟐 ⊰⊹
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖, 𝐓𝐇𝐄
𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

"i really fucked it up this
time, didn't i, my dear?"
little lion man;
mumford & sons

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            My siblings once left for a mission that managed to change our lives.

They were known as heroes, almost as if no one in town hasn't heard of them. They had the memorabilia, the posters, the magazines, the key to the city. They saved lives just as they risked theirs, even if they didn't want to.

I used to want to be one of them.

I wondered what it was like to be known for what you do— to be appreciated. I wondered what it was like to belong, because all my life I was told that I can never be like them. It had always been an impossible feat.

But just like Number Five, there were some who had bothered to include me. To help me understand the world they lived in. In fact, Eight once showed me a glimpse. It was exhilarating as if the world was on your shoulders. It felt like you were flying in the sky; unreachable. People depended on them, yet they were never crushed by the weight of the world.

I always wondered because I wanted to understand what they felt. I wanted to know if they can feel as vulnerable as I did. If they worried about themselves like I would. If they knew what it was like to be powerless because our father never failed to mention how they were never mere people— because the extraordinary must never show an ounce of weakness.

And yet, on that day, all seven of them left, but only five came home.

⊹⊱☂︎⊰⊹

NUMBER FIVE SHUT HIS SISTER'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY as soon as he finished reading the page. One month and thirteen days in the post-apocalyptic world and yet the longer he seemed to remain there, the more misery he seemed to unravel. He had found the book approximately six days ago, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to read it in one go. But he still continued to clutch on it like a lifeline as if it had all the answers of the universe.

Unfortunately, the answers he sought weren't exactly the easiest pill to swallow.

In the first place, it felt like only yesterday when he buried his siblings' dead bodies. He hadn't completely come to terms with the revelation that his family was dead. The memory was still fresh in his mind. The feeling of despair at the sight of the umbrella tattoo on their arms. The cuts and blisters that formed on his hands as he picked on the rubble to pull them out from the wreckage— as he dug their graves by hand. The sting in his eyes as he cried over their deaths for numerous nights.

At this point, he had no tears left to shed. His eyes remained dry, but the tight ache in his chest doesn't cease to exist. Fresh wounds took time to heal, but he doubts there would come a day that he wouldn't think about his family— the very people he left behind.

The boy rests his head on his arms momentarily, before gazing back at the book in his hand.

"I really fucked up this time, didn't I?" he muttered to himself.