Spray-Painted Truths (Denki Angst)

Week Four

mentions of mental institutions

***

They didn't let me see him for a while. Bakugo, that is. They actually sent me to an institute for a few weeks to spend some time with professionals. It wasn't.. easy. No, it wasn't anything close to that. I clammed up a lot, shut down, curled myself up in pretty deep denial some days. The real world was a lot to come back to and progress was painfully slow. I don't remember a lot of it. It was a flurry of doctors and questions and reporters who were constantly denied by the institute staff.

I think it was around a week of treatment before I finally got glasses. That's when I finally started remembering stuff. Being able to see was comforting, since I hadn't been able to do much of that the past year. It's not like I remembered much about my time down below–I really didn't want to, no matter how much the police grilled me. I just remembered... little stuff. About myself. About home. Stuff I just couldn't think about when I was chained down and blinded.

"Kaminari? Are you ready for your session?"

My attendee's name was Asuka. She was pretty, really nice to me. She would sit in on my sessions with Dr. Martin and take notes, I think she mentioned being a med student in residency. I would just smile at her all hazy because she reminded me of that girl. That girl who let me be tortured but made me feel safe. It was a complex I developed with any nice, caring girl that helped me. My doctor noticed it with my nurses, with Asuka, with the staff. I'd go quiet and shut down and just listen to their voices. It was a toxic kind of safety I latched onto.

"Mhm." I murmured, trying to shake the fog from my head. Asuka was used to it by now, tried to help me out and be accommodating–keep me aware and out of that sedated state. Today wasn't a very good day for me. I woke up feeling fatigued. My mind felt heavy and I didn't have any sort of appetite. All of me just felt weak. My fingers searched for the bedside railing, letting my feet dangle over the edge before standing up, instantly overcome with nausea.

"Here." She instantly rushed over to my side, unfolding the wheelchair they kept tucked between my bedside table and the wall. "Don't tell Dr. Sato, but I'll let you around in this today."

Dr. Sato was my primary care physician, Dr. Martin was my psychiatrist. Both worked at the institute, neither one was lenient with me. I understand it now, though, how forceful they were with my progress. I needed to be pushed or I wouldn't have done anything at all. Asuka was the one who always went easy on me. I'm sure she set me back a few weeks, but I didn't mind. She kept me grounded.

"Thanks." I practically had to spit my words out. I'd been doing well with walking lately, but today was just... a rough patch, like I said. My shaky hands settled on the armrests as I gave Asuka a weak smile. I wanted to check out so bad. I didn't feel like doing it. I didn't feel like doing anything. It was rainy and gloomy and I just wanted to lay blankly in my bed until the sun rose the next day.

"Next week, right? That's when you're getting discharged?" She said excitedly, pushing me out the door of my room. The walls were smooth. Clean. No sharp edges in the institute.

"Yeah. I think that's what Martin said."

"Aren't you excited? That's so soon!"

My body went frigid at the thought and I had to force a shrug.

"I guess." I didn't really want to leave. The thought was terrifying. Who was going to protect me from anything out there? Was I going to have to see people? Reporters? Police? I think Asuka noticed my unease, because she placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.

"Well, I'll miss you. We all will." She paused. I didn't have anything to say. "I promise everything will be okay. I'll keep contact and I'm sure you'll still come see Dr. Martin every week."

"Okay." My voice was soft and I guess she felt like that was enough because she took her hand off my shoulder.

***

"Thank you, Asuka. That'll be all." Dr. Martin gave her a thoughtful nod as she wheeled me into his room. She just smiled in return and waved, turning briskly to leave. Normally she sat in on our sessions. It made me nervous and I couldn't help the intensifying nausea. Before I could open my mouth, Dr. Martin beat me to it.

"I didn't think it's a good idea for her to sit in today. Things might get a little.. personal, and I need you here for that."

My fingertips tingled and I felt my limbs tense. I hadn't gotten much better about clamming up. Personal? God, I knew something was wrong. When Asuka was here I always just went on autopilot, cooperating with Dr. Martin like I was in a doped-up haze. None of that now.

"Personal how?" I asked warily, and I knew he could sense the apprehension in my voice. He reached below his desk to grab me a bottle of water.

"Well, I talked it over with Dr. Sato, and we've agreed to let someone come see you. One of your classmates, actually. He's been very insistent about getting to come visit. We've kept him posted on your progress since you got here."

Bakugo? Obviously it had to be him. Him or Kirishima, maybe Sero, maybe  Shinsou. The only one I'd really felt up to seeing was Bakugo, but even then I was exhausted.

"If you're not open to it, I can send him home."

The doctor's tone of voice made me want to shrink back in my seat. He was never easy on me, and it made me feel guilty as hell when he was. My nails drummed against the cloth of the wheelchair and I tried to make myself feel okay. Okay enough.

"Yeah, that's-.. fine. Just bring him in." I said sharply, taking a deep breath.

"Are you sure? You don't have to if-"

"Please. Before I change my mind."

Dr. Martin stared at me for a minute or so before sighing, standing up and walking over to the door. I felt physically sick. I didn't wake up for breakfast and my throat was drier than it had been in weeks. My hands gripped the water he offered and took a sip before turning to face the door. My scars burned  in discomfort.

"Iida? "