ℂ𝕣𝕦𝕖𝕝𝕥𝕪 | 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕠𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕚

eighteen

"Absolutely not." Todoroki hissed to his father as we stood in his office. Endeavor was going to a ball intended for Top heroes around the world and as his protégé, he pushed for Todoroki to go too.

Endeavor ignored him, "You'll need a date too," his eyes glinted in mischief as he looked at me, "Maindo, you're a perfect fit." I didn't buy his bullshit nor his charade but I played along anyway.

"Is that so?" My voice was emotionless as I popped another candy in my mouth. I hated how little emotion I showed but it wasn't like I knew any better. My whole life I was wired to show as little emotion as I could.

He nodded, "I already have a dress custom for you." That immediately made me speak up.

"No." I didn't like showing my skin for obvious reasons so I immediately refused. "You haven't even seen it yet." His voice was cynical. I rolled my eyes and Todoroki spoke, "I'm not going."

It was Endeavor's turn to roll his eyes, "It's an elite event. Instead of being so insolent, look at it like an opportunity for you." There was no more arguing after that. We were dismissed to get ready.

The dress Endeavor had custom made for me was beautiful to say the least. It was a brilliant red that had a slit down the side but the only problem I had was it showed my arms, my entire back, my right leg and my cleavage.

I had scars all over my body and they were like some sort of fucked up confetti littering me like a goddamn cupcake.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and a frown graced my red lips, I looked hideous.

Why did I have to put up with Tomura's cruelty my entire life? Why didn't father stop him? I would never be normal or pretty like other girls and the fact that I could do nothing about it made me sink to my knees in a broken sob.

What was wrong with me? Why was I so weak? A shudder raked through my body as I cried into my knees. I couldn't fix my scars and I couldn't fix my mind.

I'm absolutely unfixable.

Hell, I couldn't even show any emotion—whether it be positive or negative—without fearing for my life.

A soft knock came at the door but I ignored it. I could go no where looking like this. My moderately long black hair pooled around my face as I quietly sobbed into my arms.

The knock came again but I had scrunched myself into the wall infront of the mirror, ignoring it still. A few seconds passed before I heard the door creak open and the sound of feet shuffling.

I couldn't bring myself to care. I willed myself to turn into thin air, the prospect of being in my body making me sob a little more. I felt a presence sit beside me on the granite floor of the bathroom.

I didn't look up as I kept sobbing quietly. I felt a warm hand rub my bare back and I quivered at the touch. After a few more minutes of my relentless tears, I looked up and my eyes locked with hetrochromatic ones.

I felt embarrassed and hot shame gripped my being as I stared at the boy sitting next to me. My face was wet with tears and I'm sure I looked crazy with my ruined makeup on.

"Are you alright?" The question was so sincere my body shook with another sob. That's the second time he has asked me that. No one has cared enough to ask me if I was okay, let alone twice.

He pulled me into his arms and let me cry. He rubbed my bare back in comforting circles as I clutched his t-shirt, sobs shaking my being. After a little while, my sobs ceased into mere sniffles.

"I'm fine." The most common lie. I'm surprised people still believed those two miniscule words. It's like the more society says them, the more meaningless those words become.