FML!!! (A Denki Angst Fic 🥱) (Re-Write)

Chapter 1

I stood at the foot of my bedroom door. I held my hand on the door handle that could only lock from the outside. I took a breath, giving it a turn to see if it was open. Thankfully, it was. I paused as I stared down at the door handle. Did I really want to do this? All of it, over and over again for days. Would I really let this.. pattern, continue? Well, it's not like I could prevent it. I sighed, knowing I had to just walk through it all again, just like every day before today, and tomorrow, and every day after tomorrow. Every day, without fail.
I pushed the door open, dressed in my neat grey vest, white collared button down, and red tie. The intricate design of the suit fitted to make me be one of the many faces of UA. The dark green pants that fit me a little too big, leaving me to have to tailor them. Well, try to at least. The botched hem at the bottom of the pants and the stray bits of yarn left my friends teasing me. I told them that my mom had screwed up the job. It brought me a smile every time they'd deface her name, talking about how badly she sewed. Though their opinions about her were built solely upon lies, it was the least I could do for revenge.
I turned the corner, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the flight of 10 stairs. 10 stairs had always seemed so long to me. Just about a year ago it didn't, but now I realized how much 10 stairs really was. 10 stairs I had to run up and away from the oncoming outrage of my mother and father. 10 stairs I tripped on as my hell of a sister chased me up them. 10 stairs that same sister pushed me down whenever she caught me standing at the top of them. 10 stairs to walk down to reality, away from the comfort of my small, cold room. I began the 10 stair journey.
1. 1 step, and I thought about the friends I would meet at school. Bakugou, Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Iida, Ochako, Deku. At least I considered them all friends.
2. What about my teachers? Endeavor, Aizawa, Present Mic— all better figures in my life than the hand I had been dealt with. At least school was a temporary escape from my home life.
3. Well, not really... sometimes their playful teasing would feel like tender knives through my heart. I never said anything about it though. I've never had the courage to. Nor will I ever. Their jokes about me being a charger for their phones and games were funny, but made me think that they thought of me as.. an object.
4. An object. I mean, it's not like I haven't felt like one my whole life. Every day having to endure the endless teasing of my sister, which used to be filled with love and affection, now filled with hate and envy. The harmless teasing from my Mom that she spoke on family outings, wanting to brighten up the mood of long car rides. But now they were purposeful bullets thrown at me in any attempt to hurt me. I missed it. All of it.
5. 5 steps. I'm halfway there. I look up from my feet and down the stairs and hear the loud snoring of my drunk dad. My mom and sister stood in the kitchen talking. I haven't got a clue what it is they're talking about, but it never really called to my attention unless it was about me. Even then, they'd usually be talking shit about me. About how horrible I was.. how I was their least favorite.. blah blah.
6. I see the messy carpeted floor at the end of this dreaded 10 stair descent, the same carpet I know way too well. I stare at the door that followed soon after the stairs. Hopefully I could escape without trouble. I heard the keychain on my backpack rattle behind me.
7. What about my family? Did I like them? Not one bit. After I'd come out to them they cut me off, leaving me to rot alone. They still kept me, not throwing me out of the house for whatever reason. Though I wasn't really alone, it sure felt like I was. Alone in a house full of my family, in a school full of students, and in a world full of people.
8. Everywhere I went, I knew I would dread it. I felt like a sad sack, sucking the joy from every occasion I happened to attend. So, instead of bringing the mood down, I hoped that the smile on my face and bright yellow hair would convince people that I was, indeed, okay, and that they would simply leave me alone.
9. One more step. One more step that would send my flying back into reality, the weight of my home situation would smack me like a brick being thrown at me. The world felt so slow as I walked down the steps. It's something I did every day, whether I wanted to or not. I noticed my pondering had caught the attention of my mom and sister as they had their nosy little heads turned towards me.
10. The last step. The last step before I hit the ground running. The last step that would give me the time I needed to prepare for whatever berating came from those I called my family. One last step that I couldn't take, but I did anyways. I was never prepared, and I never will be. But that doesn't stop me from trying and hoping that, magically, they would have a sudden change in heart.

I reached the floor, time seeming to go back to normal. My walk down the stairs felt like it was ages long, years even, but I'm just glad it was over. Well, not really. I saw my mom storming over towards me. The rock at the bottom of my chest seemed to grow ten times larger and heavier. My stomach sank. She walked over to me, her slippers making soft sounds against the dark green carpet. She stood in front of me, anger in her eyes. What did I do? What will I do? She reached an arm up and promptly took her hand, slapping me across the face. My head turned with her hand, as it did so many times. Though this was routine for my family, it still felt odd. It felt new, not in a good way either. I felt the oncoming tears gloss over my eyes. That stung. Badly too. I stumbled back a little, my head still facing the left, her right arm making its way back up. My gaze shot up towards her, staring at her face. Her ugly wrinkles and fat mole by her nose. God, I hated everything about this woman. From the way her heels would clack along the tiled kitchen floor, to the sound of her voice yelling at whoever was closest to direct her anger to. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragging my head closer to hers as I had to bend down. I was taller than her, adding some sort of humor to these moments for me. A troll beating up a giant. How amusing.
She stared at me. Her dark brown eyes which looked yellow in sunlight stared daggers into my soul. I hated her, but I was more scared of her than anything. She started to speak between clenched teeth.
   "Sometimes I wish you were dead."
Ouch. At least it was sometimes and not all the time. I simply stared at her, deciding to just take it. The fear in my eyes and the tears glazing them was something she knew all too well. She shoved my head back, letting go of my hair. The sudden change in my position made me stumble back again, this time falling. I felt as I was pulled down to the floor by gravity, hoping one day it would reverse and slam her up into the ceiling. Or become very strong and crumple her into the ground. But for now, I was the one on the floor. I stared up at her revving-up leg. I watched as it bent back, quickly flying forward straight to my face. Square in the nose. My head flew backwards as I felt my blood acting quickly, rushing down and out my nostrils. I grunted, breathing heavy. More tears came on, one trickling down my cheek. I brought a hand up to cup my nose, looking at the blood on my fingers. My eyes shot up to her. She'd started to walk away.
"Get to school."
She seemed to spit out her words, trying to hurt me with a knife that'd already gone dull. At this point, I was numb to it. But numbness can only go on for so long and run so deep. I felt her words lightly punch me. I tearfully stood, reaching my shaky hand to the door knob of the front door, opening it and just as quickly shutting it behind me. I stood against the door for a few seconds, catching my breath. I sobbed out quietly, not wanting anyone to hear me and his pathetic I was. I wiped my nose on my light grey vest, the blood smearing across the sleeve. I wiped my tears, also staining my sleeve a dark grey, and started on my way to school. Fuck my life.

———

A/N
Soooo, rather long chapter, it was a pain in the ass writing this
But I hope this makes up for the first chapter of the book I'm covering, which was a pile of horse crap.
Bye :))

Word Count: 1657