your the daughter of the handler. kind of. since you were young, your mum has been training you day and night in order to prepare you for the worst in this world. growing up, your mum has always talked about the umbrella academy, especially five. we...
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pretty, right?
THIS IS FIVE:
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before anyone asks, you guys are the same age: 14 YOUR MUM:
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okay let's start ;)
the chills of the ice pack soothing my wound felt like 100 individual daggers eating at my flesh just like the other 16 scars on my body. it didn't hurt that much. okay it did but it would heal, right? what really pissed me off is how every time I ask mum to go on one of her missions she believes I'm not ready. I mean how does ONE wound show the whole story? I will be fine!
frustrated, i grab my one of my 'the umbrella academy' comic and begin reading. something about them made me feel warm. it's like that feeling you get when you see your old house and remember so many memories inside it. I wanted to be apart of them. reading about them always made me feel better. like a sense of love and protection was just at my finger tips .
" Melanie, there you are!" mum scurried in and stood in front of me. "how do i look?"
looking down at the gun under her dress, I said: " you look pretty"
she seemed to have noticed my eyes and adjusted her velvet fabric. "no room for imperfections, now!"
I rested my eyes, hopelessly. in pity, she asked "what's wrong?"
lifting my chin up, "you know im ready! why can't i just go!"
"because honey, the outside world are full of hungry families and your the bunny. once they get you, they tear your feeble neck apart and feast on your flesh like the pigs they are" she smiled, maniac like.
I sunk in my bed. nothing ever works. i'll always be unfit for her. nothing in this world will satisfy her.
as if she read my mind she whispered: " well, I suppose i do have a task for you."
