Dysphoria- An Umbrella Academy Fanfiction

†a glimpse into the past

"Number Eight has, since the disappearance of Number Five, been suffering from fits of delirium that seem to be mostly induced by high emotional stress or overuse of powers. During these 'fits' she is unable to control her abilities, and unable to distinguish between what is reality and what are simply hallucinations caused by the stress her body is under, and not, as she so vehemently keeps insisting, caused by the being she will only refer to as "him". These episodes of delirium have been increasing steadily since the death of Number Six, and no non-lethal amount of known sedative seem to have any effect. Her only comfort is siblings, but she has begun to get so far deep into her fits that their help is becoming obsolete. Becoming quite tiresome."

-Extract from Reginald Hargreeves' notes on the children.

"You haven't been this bad in a while." Sir Reginald Hargreeves remarked as casually as he could manage while staring at his sweating and shaking adopted daughter.

Diego, holding his trembling sister, tried not to cough on the smoke that came out of Reginald's pipe. To everyone else, it seemed that Reginald was being callous and cruel (which in many ways he was) to the clearly suffering Octavia on the ground, but anyone who knew him truly (a very rare few) knew that Reginald really only smoked when he was nervous.

Diego held tightly onto his sister, stopping her from thrashing around as much as she would have had he not been there. Luther was really the only sibling equipped to restrain Octavia during her "episodes", but, as Diego was the only one to have ever calmed her down when she was in this state, he was called upon every time; Reginald preferring to have to wake the child up in the middle of the night than to have Octavia exhaust herself to the point of being mentally unreachable for days.

"Everything hurts," The girl whimpered, her pleas barely audible above the rain battering the windows, "I can't make it stop."

Her back arched in pain, and Diego wiped away the nosebleed of black liquid that had started again, the stains only having just began to dry on her pale face. All of the houseplants Grace had so lovingly cared for had long since decayed since Octavia began screaming, leaving only the skeletal of scorched leaves.

"Pull yourself together Number Eight." Diego winced at the cruelness of Reginald's words, but sometimes a harsh tug was all that was needed to get Octavia out of whatever fit she had pulled herself into.

Not tonight thought it seemed, as she let out another guttural scream, and Diego wiped away the dark tears on her cheeks, trying to ignore the fact her eyes now resembled the black coal currently burning in the fire not a few feet away from him.

"I miss him," She cried, and Reginald sighed. "I miss him so much, things were so much better when he was around and he was so nice to me."

Diego could not help but feel slighted.

"And I'm n-n-not?" He asked, the hurt evident in his voice, holding a tissue to her nose so she wouldn't choke on the black fluid.

Octavia's shaking increased, her eyelids flickering. "I didn't mean it like that," She wailed, "I just want us to be a family again."

We were never a family, Diego wanted to remind her.

He wanted to scream at her but couldn't. It was far from her fault.

A pair of black eyes latched onto their father. "You said Klaus could bring him back, you could help him, you could, you could, you could."

"No, Number Eight," Reginald answered as calmly as he could, "Number Six is dead, he is no longer a part of this family."