I Hate You Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

19: Stitches

I strode alongside Five, trying to keep pace while also attempting to show that I wasn't still in pain. I was more than displeased to heal just enough only to feel a bullet and fragments of bone lodged inside of me, and I can't heal all of the way until they're removed or else it won't heal correctly.

He's been acting strange, or stranger, since we got in the cab. Five seemed put down rather than his determined attitude on this whole issue. It was an odd sight, but I wasn't about to point out the fact that I noticed or attempt to raise his spirits.

I limped up the stairs where Allison and Luther were waiting at the top. "Oh my God, Five, Abigail. What happened to you?" Allison asked with knitted brows as she examined my wounds. I held my arm over the oozing gash to hide it what I could.

"We're fine," I hoarsely responded. I felt the pull of darkness clouding my vision as I lied though. I need to heal quick, but I'll only be bleeding from the inside if I close the wound without removing the fragments first.

"You don't look fine. Can we help?" Luther reached over to take the duffle bag from Five's shoulder, but Five snagged his beefy arm before he could lay a hand on him.

"There's nothing you can do. There's nothing any of you can do," he solemnly murmured. I stared at him in his off putting change of tone. Only a few minutes ago he was asking me to help save the world with him. Is he finally accepting our fate too?

Five took my hand and I gave in. If even the savior is giving up, what's the point in holding a fruitless grudge? At least for now anyway.

Rather than going to the infirmary, Five lead me to his room. "Care to comment on what that was about?" I asked.

Five looked down in thought—Thought about something terrible as can be seen in his new unsettled demeanor. "They all died trying to save the world. Your body I couldn't find. I assume it was in Chicago, but that's a long trip. I guess I just—" He didn't comment further. I shouldn't ask him to. To arrive all that way only to see decomposing bodies must've been horrible, but how else would he know about my books?

I watched him in perplexity as he set out a stool to reach a tin box on top of his dresser. "Um, what's that?" I pointed to it.

He didn't look back and popped the lid open with some struggle given it had been left untouched for seventeen years also. Inside contained bandages, a needle, thread, and some random cough drops. "Medical supplies," he finally answered after demonstrating the obvious.

I glanced at his bed and wondered if it was okay to sit or if it would be invading his space, then I remembered that I was covered in blood, making that decision for me.

Five threaded the needle then gestured to me. "Sit," he told me. I didn't move. "I need to stitch you up. You're not healing quick enough, not to mention dripping blood on my floor." Five flashed a sarcastic smile.

"Fine. Sorry for me wanting to avoid getting blood on your blanket," I defended then sat down. "Do you have tweezers in that box?"

"Yeah, why?" He made his way back to it.

"I need to get the bullet and two—no three rib fragments out before I can heal." I wanted to be irritated about it, but my pain was blinding.

"Oh shit." Five sat down next to me and unraveled my arms from across my torso. I reached to take the tweezers from him, but he pushed my hand away. I scoffed. "Just let me help you."

"I can do it myself." I reached for them again and he pinned my hands to the bed. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, because you can't follow a simple direction." I wriggled my hands, but they didn't budge enough to break free. I gave up then slunk back and let him fix me up.