Blame or guilt?

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Summary:

When a moment of panic ends up hurting someone who's trying to help, the blame in which the entirety of the situation lies begins rising suspicions among the students.

When only the core reason for the situation is the sole witness, how are people supposed to know the truth? And how long will it take for the actual truth to come out... when blame is already being thrown in several different directions?

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Heavy breathing was the only thing audible to the darkness of the room- the blinds hastily pulled to cover the window, even as the nighttime sky wouldn't of made the room any brighter. 

He couldn't breath..

His arms were littered in red lines, as his nails kept digging into his skin- anything to keep himself just a bit grounded. 

He didn't deserve to breath...

Pain filled his mind as skin broke under his fingertips, but were then quickly replaced with the guilt and self-blame that had taken up most of his thoughts.

He'd hurt someone close to him... why does he always hurt the ones around him..?

His tears had long since stopped- leaving his eyes red and irritated... not that he didn't want to cry... he just didn't have any tears left...

"It's alright. Calm down Todoroki-"

A comforting voice echoed in his head- closely followed by a blood curdling scream.

His hands instantly went to cover his ears, but the scream didn't stop- you can't block out your thoughts...

"I knew you weren't any different. You're all the same" 

Another voice had spoken- taunting him.

Weren't he different? Hadn't he changed?

"Those who get everything on a silver platter doesn't know how the real world works. Didn't someone tell you, that you can't just hurt people when things don't go your way?"

His teeth gritted by the memory- a distant fear of whether they'd break under the force quickly being replaced, by a thought of whether he'd mind or not. He deserves the pain... he should be punished for hurting someone...

"Who'd want someone like you to save them? You can't even walk through the corridor of a school without hurting your friends"

The cackling of laughter had followed behind the mocking... even as he didn't see the fun behind any of it...

He'd hurt his friend...

He'd left those marks on him...

... He deserved to feel the same pain, as what he had inflicted on someone else...

His hands lowered again- finding their respective places on either of his arms, as they crossed to cover the red lines, in which had begun leaking blood.

He should feel the same pain... 

The sound and smell of searing skin filled his senses, as he could feel the skin on his right arm stinging and burning, while it felt like his left arm were being stabbed with hundreds of small knives from underneath his skin.

He deserved this much...

He deserved more than what he'd caused for others...

...

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