Thirteen Months

Freak Out

AN: I'm sorry this took so long to publish.  I wanted to make sure to get this chapter right.  In no way is this supposed to glorify the heavy topics mentioned.  In fact, it is a reflection of real experiences and trauma.  I really wanted to do this chapter well, so again I apologize for it being so late.

TW // trauma, ptsd, disturbing imagery, reference to sexual assault, suicide, abuse

Daichi rushed to the gym. He stopped short at the sight before him: Tsukishima staring down at Mizuko with utter shock and horror while the trembling girl crouched on the ground, hands over her ears. Quickly, Daichi muscled Tsukishima out of the way, moving down to try to make eye contact with Mizuko. "Hey Mizu," he said gently. "It's me, Daichi." No response. Reaching at a hand, Daichi placed it gently on her shoulder. Bad move. Mizuko flinched and started screaming incoherent things. Daichi's eyes widened; he'd never seen this before—this was the worst she had ever been around him.

The screaming seemed to snap Tsukishima out of his shocked trance. "Get her somewhere else, somewhere quiet!" He snapped at Daichi. The captain looked at the lanky blonde in utter shock. Never had Tsukishima --he didn't get to finish the thought as Tsukishima yelled again, "Now, you idiot!"

Daichi snapped into action, quickly scooping Mizuko into his arms. She thrashed and beat her fists against his chest in an attempt to escape. "I know, I know," he murmured. He rushed to the clubroom and kicked open the door. "EVERYBODY OUT!" His stern voice startled the players who had been in the middle of changing and preparing for their upcoming practice. Their protests were quickly cut short when they took in the look on Daichi's face; he was not messing around in the slightest. The team quickly filed out of the room, leaving their captain and Mizuko alone. Sugawara hesitated at the doorway before seeming to make up his mind. He shut the door and stepped in front of Daichi.

"I'm staying," Sugawara stated firmly. Daichi nodded curtly, understanding that there was no way that the other would leave. Honestly, he found himself feeling grateful at his friend's insistence; Daichi wasn't sure if he could bear to be by himself witnessing Mizuko's pain.

Speaking of Mizuko, she had broken free from Daichi and had curled up in the farthest corner. Her body was shaking and covered in sweat. Her eyes darted around the room madly, clearly not able to distinguish reality from whatever world her mind had trapped her conscious rational self in. Daichi and Sugawara exchanged a look of concern and shock. "What do I do?" Daichi asked, his voice hoarse-- raw with emotion and stress. "She won't even let me touch her."

"Just keep talking to her," Sugawara said. "She needs to be grounded somehow." Daichi nodded and turned back to Mizuko's form. He crouched near her, but not close enough to startle her.

"Hey, sis," he murmured. "It's Daichi. Suga is here too. We're right here for you. We promise we'll help you get through this."

"Whatever it takes," Sugawara added, his eyes swimming with emotion. A few minutes of silence passed as the boys listened to Mizuko's labored breathing. Suddenly, a sharp cry startled both of them. Daichi and Sugawara looked at each other quickly in concern before carefully watching Mizuko. Her signs of distress seemed to have increased. She continued to spew incoherent phrases, most of them too jumbled to make sense of. But there was one phrase that set off alarm bells in Daichi's head.

"Suga," he breathed, keeping his gaze fixed on Mizuko. "Did you...?"

"Yeah," Sugawara finished in a soft voice. Daichi glanced at his teammate with wide eyes. "I heard it"

***

Mizuko looked around her in a panic. She was sixteen years old again, just a young girl. A child. No, that's not what she was. No. Mizuko was no girl-- not anymore. She was a puppet.  His puppet.

If she didn't do as he said, she got hurt.

If she didn't speak, she was hit.

If she spoke up, she was hit harder.

It only took a few weeks for things to escalate. When Mizuko had caught him kissing another woman on their couch, Souta had smashed her head into a glass table. 

 A month later, he had started to hit her with wires while she showered. When questioned by the school she had been attending at the time, her mother had forced her own daughter to lie in order to keep Souta out of jail. In other words...that woman had chosen some man over her own daughter.

Then came the threats. Souta threatened to kill Mizuko if she didn't comply with him. He seemed to realize just how much power he had over the young girl, and he started to take other things. Things that should have been her choice to give, not stolen. When the school and the police finally saw through the facade her mother had created, it had almost been too late.  Finally, finally the truth was revealed. That had been both the best and the worst day of Mizuko's life. Finally, someone had listened to her. Finally, Souta would have to face justice. Mizuko's mother, instead of facing the consequences of being named as an accomplice, decided to run away.

Mizuko remembered that day so vividly. She had been in police custody at the time when she had received the news: her mother had taken her own life. 

"You did this! You did this to us! Your mother could have been happy!" Souta had screamed vehemently, spittle flying from his mouth. Police restrained him, but it was too late. The words had already lodged like a thorn inside of Mizuko's mind. Had it been her fault? Why couldn't she have just let her mother be happy? It had been her fault.

After the trial, there had been little to no relief. Nobody wanted to foster a child with constant nightmares, ptsd, depression, and anxiety. Nobody wanted a child who would flinch away at every touch or every sound. Nobody wanted a child who had tried to kill herself.

Mizuko had learned quickly that she was unwanted. Souta had made sure of that.