Shattered//Five Hargreeves

Chapter 4: memorial

(TRIGGER WARNING⚠️ : cussing, fighting, and thought about trauma)

I was listening to "sippy cup" by Melanie Martinez while writing this.

Blair's POV:

Growing up my sibling and I were never one unit. Our father had ingrained numbers into us and it had affected us in such a way as to make us believe we were alone. Luther and Allison seemed to be the only friendship and even they grew apart

So maybe I should have expected when I walked into the living room everyone would be gone, doing there own things to prepare for our fathers funeral. After everything with five and Reginalds death I hoped we might start joining together instead of against each other, but our family's separation is much deeper then any death.

Whether it be hate or simple pride I'm sure everyone will ignore vanya for as long as possible, since she has no powers she can't help me with this anyways. Luther and Klaus are out of the question because the thought of Luther irritates me and Klaus is higher then the Empire State Building. Diego will be complicated to. Allison will be the easiest to work with.

I walk back to my room deciding it's best to wait till after the memorial to start my plan, give my siblings sometime. I see the family portraits while walking the halls to my room which makes a wave of sadness flow through me. Things seemed much simpler back then. The weight on our shoulders was not as heavy.

I remember seeing films about sibling rivalry, but none I could completely relate to. In the end of the films the siblings always grew back together, which clearly was not the case here. I blink knowing there's not much I can do now, so I shove these thoughts away and try to focus on the task of getting to my room.

I welcome the familiarity of everything when I finally arrive there, having walked across the entire mansion to get here. I stare at the glass piece again realizing the power it holds over me. The traumatic memory was the most vivid one I remember. It felt as though the memory has been burned into my mind so deeply it was permanently apart of me.

Picking up the glass in my hand I feel my hands slightly shake, but I steady them. As a kid you have no power and parents seemed to always remind you of this, but he's gone now. I open the one window in the cube shaped area undoing the latch.

I stare at the glass shard one last time knowing everything it symbolizes. Pain, hurt, trauma, but it also shows healing, strength, and recovery. Pulling my hand back I throw it as hard as I can, watching it fly across the yard. It cuts through the wind like it used to cut through me, but I different now.

As soon as the I hear the glass crack against the hard pavement I slap the window shut. For some reason that simple act was like first my rebellion. My father is gone and the world is better now, brighter. He won't be a constant weight on my shoulder or anyone's ever again.

I turn deciding on a outfit change. There was always something about the "business woman" aesthetic I was fond of. There were all these beautiful and strong woman I would see in the city wearing suits and I strive to be them. "Queen shit" as they say.

Staring at all the clothes in my suitcase I finally decide on black sort of trousers with a big black belt around the waist. I wore a long black jacket with lace up boots. I stare at myself in the mirror somehow empowered by the outfit.

My hair flowed down my back straight from heat applied to it earlier. I stared next at my brown eyes, they were so innocent looking, I realize now why people treated me as a child. There're mistake though, I am most certainly no child. Even though my body is still 15 i am around what 32 now? I refuse to do the complete math because well math gives me headaches.