Number Eight (An Umbrella Academy Story)

Prolouge

  On the same day in October 1989, forty-three infants are inexplicably born to random, unconnected women who showed no signs of pregnancy the day before. Seven are adopted by Sir Reginald Hargreeves. This is the story of Number Eight.

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  Walking off the stage and out of the spotlight, I walked backstage to get changed out of my short red, close-fitting dress, and to put on more lose comfortable clothes. This was the last day of my tour to promote my new album 'Folklore'.  As I exited the stage I heard the cheers of my fans from the crowd. Bringing a smile to my face. 

 I've always dreamt about being a singer, ever since I was a small child. And the fact that I had finally accomplished my dream, never failed to brighten my spirit. As I headed back to my small dressing room I was stopped by my tour manager. Jordan Montgomery. She grabbed my arm lightly, her face looking distraught. Her posture was slightly hunched over and her voice was low and gentle. "Listen, Abigail...I um, I-I just got off the phone and-" She stuttered causing me to look at her with slight concern. 

 She took a deep breath. "Abigail...Your father passed away." My eyes shot open in shock as I stood there. I leaned against the wall for support for a moment. "The bastards actually dead?" I asked her, furrowing my brows in confusion. She nodded gently, a piece of her long black hair falling into her face causing her to quickly move it behind her ear. I nodded, standing there in pure disbelief. "Look I'll be in my dressing room if anyone needs me." I say and quickly walk away before she can say another word.

 Entering my dressing room, I take my long pink hair out of it's high bun it was in and let if flow freely, just passing my shoulders. I walked over to the vanity in the room and sat down, looking at myself in the mirror. I hadn't noticed how much shock was shown on my face till I looked. My bright blue eyes were full of doubt. I tried to register this emotion I was feeling. It wasn't sadness, it was far from that. I hated that man with a passion. But it wasn't necessarily happiness either. It was just disbelief, that was the only way I could describe it.

 Taking off the light pink eyeshadow that dusted my eyes, and the bold red color that stained my oval shaped lips, I sat there, just processing. Once my makeup was off, I changed into high wasted blue skinny jeans and a hoodie that was given to me as a gift by my twin brother Klaus. I took a deep breath and and rubbed my eyes slightly. 

 I knew that a funeral was going to take place. So I began to mentally prepare to see my six other siblings, when we were together things we're never calm and easy. Pulling out my Phone I texted a friend of mine, asking her if she wanted to go out to get drinks with me tonight. She responded quite fast saying of course she would. 

 I smiled slightly looking down at my phone before putting it in my back pocket. I knew things were about to get crazy, might as well have some fun before they do. I started to walk out of my dressing room. mumbling under my breath before I left, "Karma's a bitch dad."