I die for you I five hargreeves x reader

fear

I they say it's a shame I turned out this way, a maniac I 

Fear is the one thing that drives most people to madness. It creeps under your skin, and whispers to you, drawing you closer in your darkest moments. It haunts you when you are most vulnerable and attacks when you feel most alone. 

Fear is what people run from. Fear is the panicky feeling that you are drowning—that you are drowning and no one can save you—because it's too late. Because your head is already underwater and there's water in your lungs and you cannot breathe. And you are gone. 

Fear is the demise of most humans. Yet, while fear drives people to madness—I was already crazy. So, when you have completely lost your mind—when people look at you like you are something to run away from—like you are insane, there is nothing left to fear. Fear is not what drives me to madness. Fear is the lighter of my power, and insanity is gasoline. 

People learn to fear me quickly. 

And when people are scared of you, they don't come close. Don't look past the surface, or bother to sit down and talk. I don't mind it much. The child inside me longing for some kind of comfort is gone. Long gone—subdued by the insanity that binds me together—dark winding branches that grip and tighten around my insides. It is the thing that breaks me and holds me together all at once. 

Reginald, the man who asked me to call him 'Father'—to eat his food, and play his games, train with the other seven kids who also possessed powers of their own—he told me to use my power for good. Well. Fear works against everyone, good and bad people alike. 

It is often that the kindest most good people on this planet are the easiest to strike fear in. 

Reginald, was not, per se, good. In any way shape or form. 

But he is dead now. 

He is dead and I have been asked to return to the home I grew up in one more time. To reunite with the people I left behind. Yet, I don't want to. I'm done with them. Done with their stares and whispers. You'd think being my so-called siblings would cause them to show any sort of warmth towards me. But again, I know they don't like me. 

They open the doors on my cell today. Gave me a bottle of water. Plastic, of course. Never glass. Forced me to wrap the tiny woolen sweater around my shoulders and took me to a car. Windows tinted from the inside. 

"We are going to the Umbrella Academy," the driver spares me a cold look before pushing down the barrier in between the seats. I can no longer see him. 

My brain sears, feeling like it's on fire. It's happening again. 

"What did you say to her? What did you say to her?" Luther screams at me, as Alison cowers on the floor, her eight year old body shaking. Tears stream down her face and she covers her eyes with her hands. 

"I didn't—I didn't," I cower against the wall as he throws a glass in my direction. Hears the shatter against the wall. He's just lost his temper. Again. It's fine. I'm fine. 

"Number Eight!" The loud voice calls, sharp, pointed. He's going to put me back in that room. I said nothing to Alison. Did nothing to her. On purpose at least. I could tell what she was going to do. Use her powers on me. 

Dad strides quickly in front of me and I strain to keep up. He opens the door to the basement, nearly forces me down the stairs. The machine is there. Exactly where it always is. 

"Sit." He commands. "I told you, should there be another incident involving you and your powers, this would happen again." 

"No, please," I plead. "I didn't say anything to Alison. I didn't use my powers on her." 

"Lies," He straps my hands in, hooking up the tiny wires to my head. Sealing them in place. He turns the machine on. " I warned you." 

"NO! STOP! LET ME GO! PLEASE!" 

I wince, pressing a finger to my temple. I haven't used my power in years. Not since I was thirteen. Not since Five left. 

"We are here," the driver says curtly. He opens the door car door. Steps out. Opens mine. Waits for me to exit. "I will be back in three hours time." 

I don't answer. 

I stare at the building with hatred. This is where it all begun. These are the steps Diego pushed me down after I accidentally showed him a vision of spiders when we were five. This is the door Luther slammed me into after I accidentally showed Alison a vision of her death. This is the entryway Pogo tried to comfort me in after Reginald threatened to throw me out. 

I grit my teeth. Catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. 

I have not changed since I was 13. I hear extensive electro-shock and being clinically frozen for years while having experiments run on you can do that to a person. 

Alison is standing inside. She nearly jumps when she sees me. 

"Y/N," my name tastes strange on her lips. It feels foreign. "You're back." 

I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. "I'm missing precious jail time for this. I hope they have something fun planned." I haven't heard my voice in two days. It feels strange to be talking to someone so casually. 

Alison inhales, words catching on her tongue—but not quite making it out into the open. 

"Oh my god it's Y/N!" Klaus cheers, his voice sounding lopsided. "I am so happy to see you again! How's it going?" He's wearing a long skirt. Probably Alison's. Looks like he's high again. Or drunk. Whichever he prefers these days. 

I blink, staring at him. 

For a second, uncertainty flickers in his eyes, disappearing almost immediately. I can tell he's still wary. Luther walks by, eyeing me. He does not say a single word to greet me at all. I get the message. I walk upstairs. 

It would have been better to just stay in the mental institution today.