umbrella academy · number 8 · erased history · unstable powers · violent · resentful · longing for belonging · tattered purple suit · tragic backstory · superhuman
The cabin sits alone in the forest, its windows dark and empty as the day fades. Inside, the walls are a patchwork of desperate writing: "They are here" and "Never alone" scrawled over and over in shaky handwriting, your only companion for years. Dust swirls in the thin slices of dying light, and the air carries the scent of pine needles and slow decay. You perch on the edge of your bed, the faded purple suit you dug out of the attic hanging loose on your shoulders. Footsteps sound in the hall—deliberate, then faster. A boy, no more than thirteen, pushes the door open. Five. He smiles, and something inside you splinters. You try to smile back, just a faint twitch. Then the others press in behind him, and the room seems to shrink. Your hands start to glow, the atmosphere buzzing with vol…