The Condemned: Rewritten

Chapter 5 : What could've been

It was 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊...

it was as if he was staring into the very abyss he once called home in another life. The only source of light is the very luminesce of the moonlight above him. A soft sigh escaped him as he gathered the very will to walk the dark halls of his dorm. As he continued forwards, the looming sense of absolute paranoia softly crawled up against his very spill. Latching upon him, gripping against his already racing mind and never letting go. He felt as if thousands upon thousands of unholy eyes were gazing down upon him. Judging him with each step he took. Such sensation reminded him of a book he read, one which derived from the famous author of H.P Lovecraft and his many 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. Incomprehensible beings that destroyed the very minds of those who dare to look upon them. Bringing forth a sense of dread that cracked the brightest of souls. Limitless in form, many depicted them as amalgamations of eyes and teeth and tendrils which held no end. He felt as if these Eldritch beasts gazed upon him, wishing for him to look for even a mere moment, to finally free him of his fleeting sanity and to bring him to the embrace of total madness. He, however, somehow held his strength to keep moving forward. For he was already broken...

Broken by the very reality that the very companions he had fought and grown to care for had never felt the same. That he was nothing to them, a nuisance that they had to tolerate until they could not tolerate any longer. He shooked his head, wishing to rid these thoughts as if they were just another scheme by the 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 around him. Such would not be the case as He came across a bright light that cracked through the darkness. He stood there for a moment, fear stopping him dead in his tracks until curiosity pushed him forwards. Faint giggles and laughter rang from inside the group. He quietly crept closer, his smaller frame and socks granting him the ability of total silence. From within the crack, he could see what the class called the Bakusquad. Talking and laughing amongst each other. One of the people is his supposed friend, Denki. Having what seemed to be the time of his life.

" Aye Kiri, you peep that latest chick in Class 1.C, she got a nice fucking rack. "

" Nah man, you know I don't be looking at that type of stuff "

" Why are you looking at 1.C, aren't we enough for you? " Mina replied with a giggle

" Nah You girls are on the top of my who i wanna fuck List. ' he retorted

" Good! better be that way. "

The rest followed suit in laughter beside the explosive blonde who merely rolled his eyes afore returning his attention to his phone.

Slowly backing away, Mineta would rest his back against the cold wall. Tucking his knees in, he rested his head against him. The sounds of laughter faded away as he began to ponder...why? Why were the words that escaped the yellow-haired hero accepted? Why wasn't he met with a slap and disgusted or depraved look by the classmate he had just sexualized? Why instead was he allowed to do so, encouraged to even make such a comment while 𝐇𝐄 was punished for the same? Brutalized for having the same ideas, beaten for having the same thoughts. WHY WAS HE SKINNED ALIVE WHILE THE OTHER GOT TO WALK 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄?!

He felt his nails slowly digging into the sides as he quietly clenched his teeth, frustrated tears dripping down the sides of his now red cheeks. He quietly stood up and walked away...

Staring at the glass of water before him, his thoughts now shifted to something else. He wondered, what if things were different? what if 𝐇𝐄 was different? Perhaps if he had the height and looks of a decent-looking teenage boy, he would be given the luxury of what many would call friends. Hanging out late at night, getting into all sorts of antics and troubles, living a happy life of sorts. Perhaps that was the reason for everything. His physicality damning him into a life of unfairness, not given the same opportunities as others. For doomed to be classified as fodder to the actual protagonist of this story. His quirk only enforces such a stigma upon him, not blessed with the ability to perform superhuman feats like unleashing explosions from the palms of one hand or creating anything from one own body. Nay, all he was giving was a spherical sticky purple orb that somewhat resembled a grape. Of course, it has its usages but given his stature, he could not do much. He softly swirled the cup around as he began to remember a fond...memory...

It was of his...mother. She was a kind, gentle, and short woman, her quirk being a sticky slime she could exude from her hands. It's a simple quirk but she used it well, to say the least. His mother's work field was odd than most, being what many would call an escort. His father had perished long before this, which was the cause for such a change in work. Throughout his life, he was exposed to the world of sexuality and carnal desire. Though his mother always attempted to prevent such, it was inevitable. Though times were rough, she always attempted to hold a smile and give him a better life. Always telling him " Always cherish the things you hold, my little one, for you never know when they will be lost. " Such a time would be true when one night...she never came home...

He then lived with his maternal grandparents, less than ideal but it was all he had. He wondered, what if his father had not suffered at the hands of lady 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇? Would he not suffer the very crisis that plagued him today? Would he have grown up with normal ideals of the opposite sex and cherished them instead of only seeking to satisfy his dead lust? He truly wondered..𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍...

Now, however, was not the time to dwell of possibilities. He had to focus on the task at hand. For apparent meeting with the mistress was not too far away. He chugged the water afore tossing the cup into the sink and heading back towards his room. He needed to make a plan...