The Eighth Member || Five Hargreeves

Prelude //003// Road To Recovery

Recovering from a gunshot wound to the side, then tearing your voice box to shreds, and then getting drugged by your adoptive father takes a lot out of a person. Ask Eight, she would know. You would think that after Eight 'embraced' whatever Reginald had injected her with, that she would be all fine and dandy when she woke up. Well, at least that's what Eight thought when she started to wake up the next day.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, lighting the little dust particles floating around the room. Eight tried not to think that she might be inhaling said dust particles, but hey, she's had worse. This morning brought a visit from Grace and Seven, one there to do a check-up, the other with a tray laden with a triple stack pancake topped with a thick sweet cream, drenched in syrup and fresh blueberries.

Eight tried to talk, but all that came out was a weak rasp that was supposed to be a 'good morning'. Grace smiled sympathetically at her and went to adjust the IV on her arm. She then helped Eight sit up and had Seven put the tray on her lap.

Before Eight could even pick up her fork, Seven launched herself into the bed causing the tray to shake and spilling some juice onto the white sheets. "Oh, sorry" she winced and grabbed the napkin from under Eight's plate and dabbed at the wet spot.

"Don't worry about it," Eight croaked, her voice sounded weird and talking made her throat itch. "You sound like you swallowed a toad and it got stuck on the way down," Seven teased and then mimicked a toad's croak. Eight scoffed and flicked a blueberry at her sister, but giggled along with her.

Taking a generous bite from her breakfast, Eight managed to ask, "So tell me about your mission, how was it?"

At that, Seven lit up and began describing what had gone down in the bank. The two girls chuckled at the Seven's story about Two making his grand entrance "Guns are for sissies, real men use knives ", he had yelled. Then Seven told her how Five had replaced one robber's gun with a stapler and how the man tried to shoot Five with it. The two were giggling when the door swung open again, this time Reginald came sauntering in, his cane thumping dully on the tiled floor.

"Good morning ladies," he said, a smile attempting to form on his face but it looked more like an awkward grimace. "I was wondering whether or not Number Eight would be up to a little talk with me?" he directed to Grace, his head tilted slightly to the side. Grace paused for a moment before she glanced at the two girls on the bed and then nodded to Reginald. "Splendid," he said, making his way to the bed before he shooed Seven away. He then shoved the tray into her hands and waved her off.

Seven had an indignant look on her face, it had seemed like she had wanted to say something to Reginald but couldn't as Grace took her by the shoulder and steered her out of the room. Reginald shuffled a bit before he turned to Eight. "How are you feeling, my dear?" Eight couldn't help but cringe at what he called her, though there was nothing wrong with a father calling his daughter as such. But still.

Reginald waited for her answer, peering at her through his monocle. Eight regarded him with a slight frown and narrowed eyes, "I'm fine," she said shortly, shifting higher on the bed to put some space between them. Reginald nodded before standing and striding toward the cabinets.

He opened one and was rustling around in it before he turned around with a jar filled with something. He sat on the bed again and gestured for her to come closer to him. She did so reluctantly, having to pull off the warm blanket so she could sit properly.

Reginald handed her the jar, it was cold and the contents looked like expired jelly. He settled a hand over hers and used the other to twist off the top. As soon as the top was removed, the jar permeated a foul stench, filling the air. It knocked the breath right out of her, Eight coughed slightly when Reginald dipped two fingers in the jelly. Pulling them out he said, "Look up, my dear," causing Eight to give him a distrusting look, refusing to do as he says.

"Why?" she croaked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Reginald sighed and gave her a look. "Just do as I say,"

"No, not until you tell me what you did to me,"

Eight had momentarily forgotten what had happened last night. But she still felt a phantom presence around her throat, tight and heavy, like it was still there. Unconsciously she brought her hand to her neck, her fingers tracing lightly at her throat.

Reginald looked at her for a moment before he pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket. Wiping his fingers clean, he spoke, "You see, my dear Eight, yesterday something monumental occurred."

He paused, looking away from her and out the grimy window. Eight waited for him to continue, but after what seemed like hours of sitting and stewing in the silence, she spoke up.

"What happened yesterday?"

Her throat itched when she spoke, she wished Reginald hadn't sent Seven away with her orange juice. She could really do with some right now.

Reginald sighed, looking back at her.

"Yesterday," he began, "something had awakened in you, something powerful that allowed you to crack and break nearly half the windows in the city and allegedly deafen some citizens."

Something heavy and cold sat in Eight's chest. She couldn't believe the words said to her. How could she have let this happen? After so long of trying to keep things under control, to not let anything slip past her barriers.

But yesterday she lost it, and now Reginald knows. He knows and now he's going to do the same thing he did to her siblings. Break them down till there's nothing left and then build them back in his perfect image.

She shivered at the thought.

"But you said that I didn't have any powers," she said, trying to make him doubt what had happened yesterday. She can't afford to let him get this close, not after this long, not after the literal years of keeping her powers secret. She can't let that happen.

Reginald looked down and sighed, he folded his hand in his lap. "Well, my dear, I am sure that is what we were all led to believe, but it seems that I was wrong, you do indeed have something special about you." he looked back at her, his eyes assessing and dark. "But it appears that you have quite the affinity to sound, much like Number Seven, maybe I will let the two of you train together once you are feeling well."

Eight figured that the world must be ending, because there was no way that Reginald had ever been so considerate about her, or any of her siblings, health and whether or not they were able to be put through his gruelling tests and obstacles. She felt shaky, her head spinning, sense filled with nothing but her swimming vision and that god awful stench of the salve.

She looked away from him, lowering her gaze to the frumpled sheets, eyes focusing on the stain of orange juice that was probably already staining her blanket. Now that she was thinking about it, her throat was really dry at the moment, swallowing had become painful, her mere spit setting her throat on fire. She was burning up, starting from her arm, spreading up her shoulder and into her chest and down into her legs.

Eight kicked off the rest of the blanket, unable to stand the sudden heat. She could feel the sweat on her brow, dripping down the side of her face. She looked back to Reginald, wanting to see if she was the only one affected but this burn. But there was nothing wrong with him, he sat there, staring, observing.

He had this look on his face, like she was this fascinating creature that he couldn't wait to cut open and dissect.

Eight suppressed the sudden shiver that ran up her spine, somehow sending a chill through her burning body.

She forced herself to look back at Reginald, sweat dripping into her eye. "What's happening to me?" she demanded, suddenly out of breath.

Reginald stayed quiet, his assessing gaze pinned on something on her neck. His stare snapped back to hers when she spoke.

"The Awakening, my dear." he said cryptically.

As he spoke, Eight could feel her grip on the waking world slip, her eyes growing heavy, her head dipping, her body becoming lead. "W-what?" she whispered, unable to resist as Reginald pushed her back on the bed, covering her with the blanket in an uncharacteristic way, gently tucking her in. "Shhh, my dear," he hushed her, readjusting her pillow. "All will make sense in due time."