°you shouldn't have come along°

▪︎part fourty nine▪︎

Y/n stumbled back from the book, afraid to pick it up as though it was a bomb. Forgetting all about the water, she ran back into the living room, needing someone near her as she faced this brutal attack on her life. However to her dismay no one was there, not even Grayson on the table. She quickly rushed into the room looking around desperately for him. "Gray!?" She called running out of the room. "Gray!" She yelled, running up the stairs. She frantically searched the house trying to find him. He woke up not knowing where he was or what happened to him and just leaves? Did the Comission take him? Did he go back to the Comission?

Her questions were left unanswered once coming up empty in her search. She sighed, tears filling her eyes as she sat in her mother's gallery. She remembered coming there as a child and staring at the portraits with her mother. Grace would always make up stories to fit with the paintings, from daring adventures to cheesy romances. As a child she had believed these stories to be true and she often marvelled at how many wonderful stories could fit behind the stroke of a brush.

She peered down at her hands which shook in panic as the past she knew became a new one. She almost felt like Gray in that moment. So panicked and scared as she felt the need to find Five like her life depended on it. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as she tried to steady her breathing and calm down.

A threat to herself and others.

Her father's words still echoed in her head, haunting her to the core. She had so many questions and the answers had died with her father, leaving her forever asking, what am I?

But what if there was a way to speak to him? Could it be possible? Klaus had probably left by now and even if she did have his touch, would be sober enough to conjure their father? Could she do it alone? If their father was right about her holding more power within her than what met the eye, could she do it herself? Her father believed there was a way to permanentize their powers within her, did that mean that a trace of them was left even when she used another power? She gazed down at her hands, ones that she had witnessed become dark masses of power. She had tried ignoring that day, wishing it away and hoping that she would never have to see them again. But after finding that dreadful book, she wanted to know. She needed to know.

She clutched her fists, exhaling slowly as she closed her eyes and thought of her father. She tried to think of neutral moments, moments where she neither cared for him nor hated him. But as nothing happened, she grew angrier reminding herself of his worse moments. Hatred that had always boiled within her bubbled up as she thought of all the shit he put them through. The trauma. The abuse. The damage. She felt burning tears slip down her cheeks as her hands began to burn in a familiar way. Only this time the burning began to crawl up her forearms, enveloping up to her shoulders. Her eyes darkened and the world went quiet around her, nothing but her deep breaths echoing around her.

•••

The room grew cold around her as she felt herself become isolated, the darkness around her holding nothing but emptiness. She stepped forward, calling out into the space, "Hello?" Her shouts were left unanswered as she continued to walk forward into the darkness. After a few moments the soft sound of scribbling filled the emptiness and Y/n quickly walked to the sound, the pen against paper being too familiar. "Dad?" She called the space around her melting from the dark into a grey color.

Suddenly she was thrown into a black and white version of a room in her home. A room she normally wouldn't be allowed in if their father was around. And indeed he was. He was seated at his desk, writing away at a journal, the very one that had started all of this. "Dad." She said, the very sight of him, dragging a deep hate from within her. But she tried to keep her cool, wanting to know exactly what the book was and what it meant or more so what exactly she was.