(Dadzawa) I'm not a cat! (Cat quirk reader)

14: Look at it on the bright side!

The back of the school wasn't safe to go, so I had avoided it at all times.
Today though, was a special day. Stalls stood outside for a school festival of sorts (It sucked, it was boring). The stalls stood at front, so my foster father wanted to park at the back.
This meant I had to walk passed the hidden path towards the parking lot there.

With a sigh I looked through a window before actually heading out.
Paranoia filled me. What if they were waiting for me behind those bushes? What if... so much more steps before I could see the parking lot.

My arm got grabbed from behind and I got flashbacks.
I found myself on the ground and I heard someone laugh.

"Let's teach her a lesson!" A shoe met my face and I felt myself zone out in that weird way.
Was it really happening again? Would I never find a way out of the endless circle of getting beaten up, over and over and over and over again?

After a while the beating stopped, but when I sat up it had been a whole other few minutes. I looked down at my clothes, finding some blood on it. Great. The foster family got me those clothes.

I got up slowly—minding my pained leg (,:— and continued my walk to the parking lot.

I stepped into the car and my foster father turned around at me.
"What happened to you?"

I shrugged. "Just drive... I need a shower."

"I can see that. Your mother won't be glad to see that."

With a sigh I went to stare out of the window. 'Your mother'.
Nobody is ever glad to see me!

When we arrived I recalled my father trying to find excuses to beat me. I knew he'd try to find dirt on my clothes, he'd start shouting at the smallest of things.
I was a mess now. Probably this would me a good reason for this family to start beating me up.

I walked inside uncomfortably where my foster mom seemed to be waiting.

"What happened to you?" She asked with a strange frown, "Those clothes..."

"Sorry," I mused, "I didn't mean..."

"Honey, we're not mad..." my foster dad said patiently only to get interupted bu the sound of a slap.

"Speak up when talking to me. Go up to your room and don't come out until you've washed that shirt!"

I stared, ideas running tough my head. How impatient could I be to stop the endless cycle of getting beaten up?
Don't. Do. Anything. Irrational.

I calmly walked upstairs. When the door closed I carefully held my cheek which burned sharply.
Why did that hurt the most?
I wiped away all my tears of frustration and started walking to the bathroom. I should hurry and try to wash the shirt.

Before I reached it I realised trying to wash out blood before. My hands suddenly shook and I crouched to the floor. It was impossible.
I clutched my mouth so the sob wouldn't escape me and I got up. Forcefully I threw the shirt on the ground.

Fuck. This. Shit.

I grabbed my mask and practically jumped out of the window. For a moment I was scared I'd fall to the ground with how much I was shaking, but I adjusted my mask and started walking, finding a route to patrol.

Tonight I had to blow off some steam. And tonight I definitely would.

—

If blood was an issue before, now I'd be in absolute trouble.
Oh well, at least I got to best up some villains. I had been waiting on doing this, waiting on the right moment to strike. I guess this was the right moment because I managed to beat up every single one of them.