Number Eight
"Sophia"
He died. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and it wasn't by murder or anything remotely tragic. I woke up this morning, expecting the usual: daily monitoring, testing—the routines my father had forced on me ever since I woke up from my coma. Every day since I learned that I'm actually 30 years old, just like my siblings, most of whom barely speak to each other anymore. Or to me. I didn't know what I expected when I woke up after so many years, but letters and a few secretive, one time, pity-filled visits weren't exactly the "welcome back" I had in mind.
Pogo had broken the news, a heart attack. A stupid heart attack had killed the man who seemed too invincible for something so ordinary. I didn't know what to feel—relief? Guilt? Sadness? None of it made sense. Pogo arranged for Reginald to be cremated soon after. And now, the freedom I had so desperately longed for as a child was almost mine. But what now? What do you do with freedom when you've never had the chance to live a life of your own? It felt unreal, like walking out of the mansion would be pretending to pick up a life that never even started.
"You should eat before they arrive, Ms. Sophia," Pogo's voice broke through my thoughts as I stood before the fireplace, staring up at the portrait my father had commissioned of Five. It was almost afternoon. Mom had made breakfast, but I wasn't hungry. Pogo, of course, was referring to my siblings—the ones who abandoned me as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Now, they were rushing back home after hearing of Reginald's death. I guess I'd want to see proof too.
I stayed rooted by the fireplace, trying to remember Five's face. The newspapers and framed clippings scattered around the mansion didn't help—it all felt like looking at memories from a past life. At least I wasn't stuck in that hideous uniform anymore. Today, I wore a hoodie and sweatpants, a small rebellion from the tacky outfits our father forced us into. When I first woke up, there was no time to adjust—straight into training, straight back into that damn uniform. Diego, bless him, had gone out and bought me normal clothes, though his sense of style left much to be desired. Still, it was the thought that counted. At least one of my siblings cared enough to try to pull me out of this nightmare.
"Well, it's not like they'll stick around long enough to even have a conversation with me," I said coldly, turning to face Pogo.
"Leaving was the hardest thing they did, knowing you had to stay behind all these years," Pogo replied in that calm, gentle way of his, as if it would somehow make me feel better.
"Yeah, that explains the pity letters," I sighed, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets. Pogo exhaled softly, clearly unsure of what else to say.
"They miss you, they all do. You should get ready, and don't forget your medication, Ms. Sophia—it's nearly afternoon."
Medication. The pills my father had prescribed the moment I woke up, claiming they would "wake me up faster, energize me more." I followed Pogo's advice and went upstairs to my room, which still looked more like a hospital ward than a teenage girl's bedroom. The cases of pills sat there, cluttering my nightstand, some empty, some half-full. I picked one up, stared at it for a moment, and then swept the entire collection into the trash can. In a moment of defiance, I walked to the window, opened it, and hurled every single pill out. Some cases shattered, others remained intact, pills spilling across the lawn like tiny fragments of a past I was trying to escape.
A sense of relief washed over me. I chuckled softly. Then, as I glanced out of the window, I saw a vehicle pull up to the mansion. A figure stepped out, and I squinted to make out her face—Allison. I hadn't seen her since before I was put in a coma. She looks so different now. Older, polished, like someone who had moved on, who wouldn't understand what it was like to be stuck here all these years. The only contact I'd had from her was a letter, an impersonal note saying she was "glad" I had woken up and suggesting we "catch up soon," as if we were old friends from work.
I sighed, resting my forehead against the window for a moment before turning away. The time had come to face my family, like some dreaded chore. Maybe I shouldn't have tossed all my medication after all.
. . . . .
HII this will be an 'introduction' to this book
I have a few chapters stored up and I have plenty of time to write more this weekend :)) I hope those who started reading the last book have found their way to this book
If any of you have any plot ideas that are possible to work into this book, pls lmk!! I always love to take suggestions
And after weeks of starting up my writing on Wattpad, I found that I have more time to post on weekends, in case anyone wanted to know
and again TY to my proof reader who's always giving me the best suggestions for these books, I'm glad you've become apart of this project and I'm grateful to have already gotten a proof reader after only being on here for a little over a month <3
ENJOY!!
YOU ARE READING
The Cost of Time- Five Hargreeves x OC story
RomanceAfter years spent in a coma, Sophia Hargreaves awakens to a world that has drastically changed-and so has her family. As Sophia struggles to reconnect with her estranged family and come to terms with her brother's death, she's thrust into the cent...
