Taken

Waking Nightmare

As the first day of the second week dawned, the weight of despair settled over Izuku Midoriya like a suffocating shroud. Shigaraki's sinister grin sent shivers down his spine, a haunting omen of the horrors to come. The League leader seemed to take sadistic pleasure in Izuku's crumbling spirit and decided to intensify his torment.

Shigaraki's quirk grazed his arm, the touch sizzling like acid, leaving behind a trail of blackened skin and raw agony. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and Izuku's vision blurred as he fought to suppress a scream.

After leaving him to wrestle with his pain they returned a few hours later, sending in a low level thug to degrade him further. A swift blow from one of the villain's henchmen sent Izuku crashing into a wall. The impact was bone-jarring, leaving him dazed and disoriented. His vision swam with dark spots, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood as it welled up from a split lip.

After another round of taunting, Shigaraki delivered a savage kick to Izuku's side. The force of the blow felt like a hammer striking him, ribs cracking under the pressure. Izuku gasped for breath, each inhale a searing jolt of pain.

"You think you can be a hero, huh? All you are is weak and pathetic," Shigaraki sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "No one's coming to save you, you know. You're all alone in this hell."

The words cut deeper than any physical injury, twisting the knife of doubt that had already been planted in Izuku's mind. He felt like a wounded animal, cornered and defenseless.

Amidst the pain and despair, the reality of his situation sank in. Izuku was a mere pawn in Shigaraki's sadistic game, and escape felt like an unattainable dream. The thought that he might not survive this nightmare haunted him.

His body trembled, covered in sweat and blood. The world around him seemed to blur into a haze, each passing moment stretching on like an eternity. He longed for the comfort of his friends, the reassuring presence of his teachers, but the hope of rescue felt like a distant mirage, slipping further from his grasp.

Through the blur of pain and fear, Izuku clung to the memories of his loved ones, their faces like beacons in the darkness. But as the injuries multiplied and the torment persisted, the thought that he might not survive grew stronger, dragging him deeper into the abyss.

In the chilling silence that followed, Izuku's spirit was battered and broken. The chilling reality of his situation sank in, and he found himself giving in to the crushing weight of despair. Letting go of his heroic resolve, he let himself feel his desperation, his shattered hope. He let himself recognize the gruesome reality of his injuries, as he was left to grapple with the possibility that he might never make it out of this living nightmare alive.