Electric (D. Kaminari)

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    This whole chapter is just sad, so....

Wake up, go to school, do homework, come home, 'talk' with my father, repeat. That's what I've been doing for what seems like years. I don't know how long it's been, though, since I don't even bother to keep up with the days anymore. I was looking at myself in the mirror, and it reminded me of times when I was depressed and... suicidal. The light had gone out from my eyes again, and you could see the bags and tear stains under my eyes. I had been crying so much that tears didn't even come out anymore. I didn't talk to any of my classmates, other than a simple 'yes' or 'no' here and there. I didn't blame my father fit treating me the way he did. Instead, I blamed my self. I blamed myself because that's what he had drilled into me as a child, and so that's what I had come to believe. It was all my fault. None of this would have happened if I had just not talked to Kaminari, or even better, not tried to get into UA in the first place.
As I continued to look at myself in the mirror, I could see cuts and bruises all over my body; some new, some old, some made by me, some made by my father. I tried to cry again, but no tears came out. I cried silently for a while, a burning feeling in my chest. It wasn't the same as the one I had felt with Kaminari, it was a deeper, painful feeling. Just thinking about Kaminari made me remember more horrible things like the things that I had said to him, and that made me cry even more. After a while, I laughed. I laughed for a while, and I sounded like a maniac, but I didn't care. What even mattered anymore?

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I tip-toed down the stairs a few minutes after I had heard the door open and close, which signaled that my father had left to the bar. My mother would be gone for the rest of the night. I knew that I probably shouldn't leave the house, so I looked around at what we already had. I couldn't find any pills or painkillers or anything that would do what I was hoping for, really, but what I did was alcohol. Whiskey, to be exact.

I had never drank before, but that didn't stop me. I needed something, anything, to make me feel at least a little better. I drank. I drank and drank some more. It wasn't good, but I stopped thinking so much after a while. I'm pretty sure that I finished the whole bottle, but the memory is pretty fuzzy. I threw the bottle away, whether it was finished or not, and stumbled back upstairs to my room. 'Oh, pitiful I am,' I thought.

(_ _).｡o○(-_-)zzz

Waking up later than usual, I didn't have much time to get ready for school. I would rather go to school than stay here at this awful house. I know what's probably going through your head: why don't you just pack a bag and run away, right? Well, I tried that before. I was caught and severely punished. I tried to kill myself. I was caught and severely punished. Why would you hurt someone who was suicidal, I don't know, but they did it anyways. I tried to tell people about what was happening at my house, and guess what? I was caught and severely punished. Anything that I did that caused trouble, I was always caught and severely punished for.

I headed out the door and went off to school.

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Word count: 618 Words