The Cassandra Complex:
A psychological phenomenon in which an individuals accurate prediction of a crisis is ignored or dismissed
Or, in which;
the Umbrella Academy children are far too young to know what life has planned for them -- except for th...
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Johanna doesn't even think to grab an umbrella before she is walking out into the courtyard, barely aware that it has even begun to rain. Despite the fact the sound of it pattering against the roof tiles is soothing, she isn't completely concious of it.
Five is behind her, but he's smart enough to grab one of the umbrellas by the door as he passes her.
She falters beside Ben's statue, her eyes lifting to stare up at the metallic face of her too young brother. She watches the raindrops slide down his cheeks and a hollow sort of pain settles within her rib cage right where her heart is.
The rain soaks into her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but it doesn't phase the girl who could always be found wandering around the courtyard as a kid with her head caught in the clouds; she didn't know what it was, but she seemed to be drawn to evading her thoughts during storms without realising.
The others would often find her soaked to the bone by rain and having not even noticed. Sick for weeks, she could only be told 'I told you so' so many times before Reginald realised his words just weren't going to get through to her.
When she got older, and Ben was gone, Johanna would resort to disappearing for short periods of time. Sometimes Klaus would stumble upon her empty bedroom in the middle of the night and fall asleep in her bed until morning when she returned hours later. She'd take walks by herself when a girl shouldn't necessarily be alone, especially given her fragile psyche and lack of ability to talk. Other times she would go on nights out with Klaus, refusing to leave his side, ignoring the dangers of being non-verbal and the scary thought of someone with such an absent mind drinking alcohol, or dealing with the substances her twin tended to.
Johanna hovers by Ben's statue and ignores Luther calling her over. Perhaps she doesn't even hear him.
Through the heavy downpour they can just about make out her humming something sad, staring lost at the name plate.
Someone, probably Diego, tells him to leave her be.
Pogo begins his speech riddled with words that none of them can relate to, and nearly all of them don't believe.
Johanna doesn't want to get close. She knows they're going to start arguing and she doesn't want to be caught in the middle of it like when they were kids.
She leans down to pluck a few white tulips from the bed and fiddles with them shyly for a moment before placing them down at Bens feet on the plinth.
Absently, she drifts back towards the group, voices clashing loudly. All too familiar.
She watches Luther shove Diego, goading him on, and as the other goes to swing Johanna takes Grace by the elbow and gently pulls her back out of the way.
Grace has a calm smile on her ruby lips, her eyes gazing at the fight as though it is nothing more than watching children play. Perhaps that's all it is to her given how often it occurs.
