❛That's what people do
who love you.
They put their
arms around you
and love you when
you're not so
lovable.❜
FIVE/OC
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY SEASON 1-
EXPLICIT LANGUAGE
ADULT THEMES
HIGHEST RANK: #1 i...
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ON THE TWELFTH HOUR OF THE FIRST DAY OF OCTOBER 1989, FORTY-THREE WOMEN AROUND THE WORLD GAVE BIRTH.
This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.
He got eight of them.
✧
MARCH 23, 2019
Ramona Hargreeves, or Number Eight, is easily satisfied. She likes nice things. She likes justice. But unfortunately, people don't want to give her these things so easily.
She doesn't wear the mask anymore. It's too well known. She does, however, wear the nice things she finds in the jewelry boxes she finds in her victims' houses.
It was a gruesome one this time. A popular politician who is—was—known for his plan to pass a bill that would not only restrict women's healthcare, but would also jail women for murder if they had a stillbirth.
Ramona feels no pity for the dead man on the floor, head twisted 180°.
His wife sits in the corner of the room in a chair. She has no bonds or gag but it's impossible for her to move or say a word. Ramona smiles at her, and begins to sift through the closet. "You know, I'm not a bad guy. If anything, I'm doing you a favor." She peeks around the door and props a gloved hand on her hip. "I mean, really. If he had his way, this man would have more control than you over your own damn body. Do you want to be married to someone like that?"
The woman just drops her head to her chest, trying not to cry.
"Unless," Ramona muses, "you were in on it." She sighs in faux disappointment. "Of course you were. You're a white woman in a high position of power. Those rules don't apply to you, do they?" Ramona tuts. "Naughty, naughty."
She pulls a black, sparkly dress from the wardrobe. It looks close to her size. She holds it up to her chest and walks out from behind the door.
"What do you think? Too showgirl?" Ramona tilts her head. "I've got a memorial to go to tomorrow. My father kicked the bucket." She pouts. "He made up this whole story about dying to save the world from the apocalypse and killed himself! Can you believe that? The audacity . . ." Ramona trails off. "Yeah, this one is perfect."
She tosses it onto the bed and rifles through the closet for some shoes. The woman whimpers and Ramona groans.
"God, shut up. Maybe I should just get it over with and kill you too."
A strained cry. Ramona smirks. She steps out of the closet and struts back over to the bound lady in stolen stilettos.
She squats, amazingly managing to balance in those heels, and grins. "Oh, silly goose. Of course I'm gonna kill you. Did you think you were getting out of this?" Ramona's smile falls. "In a way, you're worse than your husband. You were compliant with his evil, all too willing to let him destroy the lives of every woman who isn't you." Ramona tucks a blonde hair behind the woman's ear. "Justice comes for us all, and it is swift and merciless." She tilts her head, brown eyes turning a cloudy white until her irises are completely covered.
The woman starts to choke on her own blood, eyes rolling back in her head. Ramona smiles, sadistic satisfaction curling in her chest. It's always fun, wiping evil from the world. She makes the world a better place, even if it makes her evil too.
Ramona stands and grabs the bag of jewelry and clothes that she packed on the bed. The woman sits still and lifeless. Ramona hums and smiles. It's an almost terrifying smile for such a young looking girl. She doesn't look a day over eighteen, but looks can be deceiving.
She's counting on it.
Needless to say, Ramona is a bad bitch
Also yes I've rewritten this and am reposting it lmao
