𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝟷𝟶𝟷

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬

After that night, my dad ran.  Left the country.  I was keeping tabs on him starting when I was 10, I think.  He's was a low level villain with two kids and a wife.  Lived in Montana and made a living stealing from richer homes.  He was known as 'Suri', which is a fucking lame villain name because it literally just means 'pickpocket'.

I always wondered how he could love those two kids but not me.  Was I ugly?  Was I not enough?  Were we not enough?  Where did I go wrong?  

Why?  

Well, even if he did answer, it wouldn't matter.  About four weeks later, my mom died from broken heart syndrome.  Search it up, it's a thing.  Who would've known?  I guess I wasn't enough for her, too.  Don't get me wrong, I was sad about my father too.  But my mom was the only thing I had left.  The only ties I had to the thing I used to call my life.  She was my lifeboat.  My connection to reality, the one thing that kept me in touch with the real world.  But now that she was gone, so was my mental health.  

It only deteriorated from that.

. . . .

It was my first day of middle school.  My first day of public school in general, to be more specific.   I was homeschooled by my mother, but now that she'd died, no one could home school me so I was forced to go to public school now.

I walked up to the building, the polished stone walls of Aldera Junior High shining proudly in the sun.  I was somewhat happy and ready for the day that was to come.  I was somewhat happy to see my only friend, Bakugou Katsuki.  I saw a glimpse of the familiar ash-blonde hair in the corner of my eye.  I hurried after it, trying to find him, small apologies and exclamations making their way out of my mouth as I pushed past people in attempts to keep up with him.

I finally found him, a half excited, half sad exclamation making it's way out of my mouth.  I'd planned to tell him about my mother and father that day, assuming Mitsuki, his mother, didn't tell him herself.  

"Kacchan!"  He turned, eyes the color of blood widening.  Then they narrowed even more than his usual slits.  

"What do you want, fucking Deku."  he spat, malice coating his tone.  I was taken aback.  Yes, he was typically this much of an asshole, but this time it felt different.  Like his anger wasn't just his personality, but it was more directed.  Directed at me.  But I didn't, no, I couldn't grasp the idea that he was mad at me.  Even so, what could I have done to make him angry?  I haven't seen him for about two months since he didn't come to my mom's funeral, which was why I assumed he didn't know about my mom.  He was my best friend, for gods sake.  If anything, I should be mad at him if he knowingly didn't come to her funeral.  She treated him like family.

"Kacchan..... I just wa--"  He cut me off, shoving me to the ground.  The goons around him laughed, small remarks and taunts making it's way to my ears.  I didn't know people, more specifically, kids, were like this.  I may not have had much interaction with them because of my homeschooling and shielded life, but I didn't think they'd be like this.

"Fuck off, Deku.  Don't act like we're friends.  I don't like you and I never did.  I hate you."  I studied him, my eyes making contact with his.  Maybe it was a show, to seem 'cool' in front of his other friends.

But the only thing I saw in those angry, hate-filled eyes was blank fury.  Fury at my existence, how useless and how much of a burden I was.  

I wanted to scream at him.  Scream that I hate myself too.  Scream that I know that I'm a fucking burden, and I'm sorry for that.  But my throat was dry.  I couldn't.  The only thing I could do was choke on my sobs as I slowly filtered through all of the memories that we'd made together.  Days at the parks together, jumping around on the small playground that we grew up on.  Hot, sunny days eating ice cream and sticky hands.  Exploring the world together, kicking rock as we walked along the road.  He was my idol.

There's nothing more horrible than knowing the person that you look up to the most thinks your entire existence is a waste of time and air.  Because you know that if you hear it enough, you'll begin to believe it too.  But what he didn't know, was that you can't hate something that you already hate.

The small taunts grew from name calling and annoying shoves, to full on beatings.  I would often go home with purple splotches littering my skin.  Sometimes I would get so beat up that I would be forced to go to the ER.  Since I had no one to pick me up, I would never be able to get stitches which actually costed money.  It wasn't an uncommon thing for me to be forced to put a bandage or gauze on top of a centimeter-deep injury.  Not only was it uncommon, it was incredibly unhealthy and caused me to sometimes get them infected and also walk around with fatigue, due to blood-loss.  That wasn't the only unhealthy habit I had.

The memories of the rape was still fresh on my mind.

I would often scrub my skin till it was red, sometimes to the point that the skin would start peeling off.  It caused horrible pain, but gave me some satisfaction knowing that some parts of my tainted body was now no longer a part of me.  I was slowly, and quite literally, deteriorating.  My health, my practically nonexistent mental stability, my grades, my body.

I remember, a few days before the final straw, the final thing that made me snap, I was given a beating by them.  Two of Bakugou's goons, Hirito and Akira, were holding me up while he was administering the beating.  I'd finally coughed up some blood, causing them some panic.  They dropped me, quickly, and started speed-walking away from me.  I reached out, desperate for help.  I knew there was a good chance that I'd end up choking to death on my blood if he'd left.  

"Ka... K-kacchan...."  I whimpered, blood making my voice rough.  He stopped and turned back to me, causing a few flowers of hope to bloom in my chest, only to whither just as fast as they'd came.  His eyes were filled with disgust and hatred.  He then spat on me like a dog, and walked away, but not before saying one last thing.  Something that I would remember forever, photographic memory or not.

"Fuck off, Deku. And stop calling me that stupid ass nickname. Grow up," he paused, rethinking his wording.  "Actually, please don't."  I held my breath, waiting for him to finish.

"Die instead."

. . . .

i am not sorry.