Bottle Me Up (Dabi x OC) {[tw]}

Chapter 1: I Just Wanna Feel

⚠️Warning⚠️: self-inflicted harm, mentions of childhood trauma, suicidal thoughts

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

Kazemi p.o.v.

My days go by fast.

Wake up. Feed Suki. Shower. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Drive to work. Work my ass off. Go home. Eat dinner. Clean the dishes. Masturbate because that's the only thing I can feel. Shower again. Feed Suki again. And cry myself to sleep.

I hated it, but I couldn't find the courage to end it and do something better for my life.

Why did my quirk have to ruin my life?

When I got my quirk, at first I thought I was sick and my parents thought so, too. But when we went to the quirk doctor, it was a whole other story.

The doctor held out his wrist, which had a slight carpal tunnel, and told me to hold it. He gave me a strange look when I did and we knew something was wrong.

My quirk?

When I touch someone, I can take away the pain and sometimes all feelings from them. It can be helpful in some situations, but most people don't want to feel it.

Because they think I'm killing them faster than they are dying.

I mean, I understand why. I can't feel pain whatsoever, so I wouldn't know if I was dying.

After finding out my quirk, my parents turned from loving, and kind to cruel and abusive. It all happened so fast. One second we were driving home in deafening silence, the next my father was dragging me through the house screaming at me about how much of a failure I was and punching me around. My mother sobbed as she packed my school bag with a few clothes, a snack baggy, and my teddy bear she gave me when I was born.

I felt bad for them. They had a failure as a daughter.

And that's why they kicked me out at 8 years old and I had to lie and steal my way through my childhood.

I built myself up from rock bottom, even if I had to take from others to do it.

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

I slept through my alarm and was late to work.

Everything else fell downhill from there.

My boss screamed at me for being late and fired me, even tho it was the first time I'd ever been late. I never even liked my boss or my job anyway, but I still had to do something to pay rent on my tiny ass one-bedroom apartment.

My car ran out of gas on the side of the road and I had to walk 3 miles home. But then it started to downpour and I was soaked in seconds. The sole on my right shoe tore and I had blisters and cuts by the time I made it home; I couldn't feel them, I just knew they had to be there after walking three miles.

When I locked my door shut, I immediately blasted my speaker in the living room, and took off my socks and shoes, finding that I did indeed have blisters forming. I took off my clothes as I walked to my tiny bathroom.

By now I'm sobbing.

I hated doing this, but it's the only thing that can make me feel something.

I pulled the drawer out with the razor blade in it.

I sat in the tub, placing the blade on my inner thigh, over a freshly scarred slash. The first stroke of the blade on my skin drew blood; I didn't care how deep it was, I'd just stitch it if didn't stop bleeding.

Even though I couldn't feel it, it gave me control.

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

Have you ever felt like dying, but you didn't want to die because what would the point of it be?

That's how I feel 24/7. I want to die, but I just don't dare to do it myself. Standing on the edge of bridges, I would always back away. Standing on the ledge of skyscrapers, I didn't want to fall for so long and regret it right after I jumped. Holding my gun to my head, I didn't have the balls to pull the trigger.

Some part of me knew I couldn't give myself the satisfaction of death. Even if I can't feel pain, unless it's serious, I still don't want to die. I know there's something better out there for me.

I just can't help but wonder sometimes, why me?

Why did I have to be the one with the terrible quirk when no one wants to understand what it does to me?

I have no friends, just my cat, though she doesn't count. I had one before, though Misaki had moved to America and never wrote me back. The Hollywood life was perfect for her. She is a famous model now, so I suppose all her friends now are beautiful. I always felt inferior to her.

I'm pretty average. I stand at 5 '3 with black hair that has bleached white strands in the back, my light brown eyes are too big for my face, I have a scar on my eyebrow, and the only good thing about my face is my plump lips. I have a soft hourglass figure that I hide under dark alternative clothes and tattoos.

I was in the living room, soaking my blistered feet in icy salt water. Even if I couldn't feel pain, I could still get infections. To pass the time, I put on IT while I drew charcoal sketches in my sketchbook. Suki was curled up on my side, her little engine purring away.

It was nearing the end of the movie, hearing Richie shout, "Welcome to the Losers Club, asshole!".

My laugh was cut off by my scream when I heard glass shatter in my kitchen followed by a groan.

A pain-filled groan.

Oh, shit.