This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things//Five Hargreeves

Chapter 4 - Feeling So Gatsby

Contains the following trigger warnings: mentions of death (read author comment)

The house was often quiet now. Sometimes the occasional sound of Pogo or Grace's footsteps could be heard throughout the house, but it was rare.

I helped Grace around the house sometimes, although she insisted on me not doing so, but after thirteen years there really wasn't much else to do. Sometimes I was given the rare mission but, I usually just ended up reading in my favorite armchair in the living room. Today was one of those days.

I was currently curled up in the corner of my chair wearing my moms old cardigan. My eyes glazed over the last sentence of The Great Gatsby, it was one of my favorites and I had read it about twenty six times. In fact I had read all of the books in here at least four times already. Occasionally I was allowed to go out to get new ones, but as a quick reader they didn't last very long.

I stood up with a sigh and shuffled out of the room. I peered up the staircase and started the ascend. Finally reaching the top of the multi-story building I walked out to the roof.

The March air was fresh and breezy, nothing like the blazing California weather I had grown up with. Trees had vibrant green leaves again and the birds were singing.

I walked towards the ledge and sat down. Swinging my legs over the side, I looked down at the busy street. People going about their day, grabbing their daily coffee, chatting with friends, taking in the new spring weather while walking to work. As I settled down on the ledge I heard a door swing open. I turned around to be met with the friendly face of Pogo.

"Miss Amity, your father would like to see you in fifteen minutes."

"I'll be there," I said, giving Pogo a thankful smile before he left.

Even though I had come late to the academy, Reginald Hargreeves had filled in the role of my father within a week. Although he spent most of his time in his office, he was a thousand times better than the man who used to be my dad. Most of the others at the academy hated him, especially Diego, but to me he was great. I considered him my father as much as anyone else in the academy. Maybe even more so.

And then there was Grace. She was so sweet, and a great mother figure to us all but I could never bring myself to call her Mom like the others. I knew I probably shouldn't, but I was still clinging on to the memory of my mother. Even after twenty one years. I just couldn't let her go.

Looking down again at the people below I sighed and closed my eyes.

"I don't hate you. I'm in love with you."

"This was actually four hundred dollars. But you don't need to know that."

"I didn't finish my homework last night. Sorry."

I couldn't help but laugh at some of these. After all the years of nonsense voices, I finally understood them. My time at the academy had helped me improve my powers so much, and I was grateful for that.

Instead of always hearing the voices, I could now control what I heard and when I heard it. I realized people had secrets for a reason, and I wanted to respect that. Sometimes though it felt nice to just close my eyes and listen to the Truths. But I never used it on people I knew or anyone that I talked to, well except on missions.

My other power however was harder to control. After years of it being free it didn't take well to being restrained. I guess not learning from a young age had its consequences. To be honest it scared me, and after years of being used for it I didn't want to use it at all. Besides, it always had a bad outcome. After more training sessions than I could remember I finally was able to hook it onto a phrase. Like Allison's "I heard a rumor", I was now able to control my power with the set of words "the truth is." Sometimes though when my emotions boiled over my power would too, but that hasn't happened since the Henry Incident.