Sat across from her daughter on the small table, she stared lovingly into her eyes. The girl stared back, her eyes full of doubt.
"Happy 7th birthday, my love!" The mother cheered, clapping her hands together. The girl's expression was monotone, giving no reaction to her mother's happiness.
"W-who... are you?" The young girl questioned, raising an eyebrow and frowning.
"W-what do you mean, my dear (f/n)?" The woman laughed, reaching out her hand to caress the side of her daughter's face. She pulled her arm back quickly, aware of the consequences of her actions. "I'm your mother-"
"You aren't my mother." The girl spat.
"But-"
"You're cold." She began. "And you.. look like you're fading, like that old lady, who I see at the store everyday at 3pm or like the man across the street, who got into a car accident. Or even like that little girl that I always see crying on the swings at the park..."
"(F/n)-"
"Mother," The girl asked, her voice weak and breaking. "did you die?"
The mother covered her mouth and she sobbed, her dysfunctional heart breaking more.
"O-on my way back from visiting your brother, I got caught up in a villain attack..." Her mother explained. "(F/n), I am so sorry."
Her cold hands reached out for her daughter's warm ones. Her teary eyes suddenly became stern, as she gripped the young girls small hands tighter.
"(F/n), the attacks are still going on outside, so you must stay here. Once this is all over, your aunty will collect you and you will have to live with her and her children for a while."
(F/n) nodded, wiping her salty tears with the rough sleeve of her shirt.
"And make sure you don't make any sort of contact with spirits. It's dangerous." Her mother added.
"I'm so sorry for being able to see them.." The girl cried. Her mother shook her head, showing that she didn't need to apologise. "But at least I'm able to see you one last time!"
"And at some point in your life," She warned quickly, gaining (f/n)'s full attention. "You will come across a very bad man. Don't you dare obey what he forces you to do. Don't become like him. Use your quirk as you want. Live your life as you want."
The small, crying girl nodded, continuously, remembering all the advice that the wise mother had for her.
"And (F/n)."
"Yes, mother?"
"Fall in love and marry whoever you want."
The mother took her daughter in her arms, holding her for the last time.
Slowly and gracefully, the mother faded away, bits of her spirit turning into gold pieces of glitter. The girl screamed, as pain filled her entire fragile body.
After hearing the explosions outside, (f/n) crawled under a table, unable to properly use her legs.
That was just the beginning of the hatred that she felt towards the world.
The girl lay under the table, starving, dehydrated, her traumatised self staring at the same spot on the carpet. Who knows how many days it had been now. The sounds of suffering outside had died down. The dark smoke from the aftermath, however, blocking her windows. She was completely alone and and shut out from the rest of the world.
She was brought back to reality by the sound of a door knob turning. She growled before crawl-running behind the sofa.
"Where's the little brat?" A woman spoke.
"Go away!" The girl cried, burying her face between her legs.
"Listen, little girl." The woman spat. "I don't want to have you near me either but I don't have a choice. Now, where are you."
(F/n) heard her footsteps grow closer. She shuffled away from the sound. Peeking around the corner of the couch, the woman sighed as she saw the state of the girl.
"Awful, (h/c) hair; disgusting, heterochromatic eyes; smelly; dirty finger nails; filthy looking." The woman listed, counting on her long, boney fingers. "This girl was definitely raised by my sister."
The young girl felt sick at the presence of her aunty. She wanted to run away. That woman was cold, almost like a ghost, except she was just a bitch.
"Okay, so what's your quirk and will it be of any help to me?" The woman asked, forcefully grabbing the small girls wrist, pulling her upwards.
"I don't want to show you my quirk."
"Wow, so my disgusting sister couldn't even discipline her own daughter." Her aunty laughed. "I'll have a fun time teaching you a lesson at your new home."
"Now, let's go... ummm." She put her finger on her chin, trying hard to think of her name.
"(F/n)."
"That's it!" Her smile was full of wickedness. It made sense though. Her entire concept had an evil stepmother vibe about it. She yanked at (f/n)'s wrist once again, dragging her to the car. "I can't take this place anymore. It's not good for my skin."
Hurriedly, she brought the child to her home. From her stuck up attitude, (f/n) was expecting something extravagant, like a huge mansion or a palace. To her surprise, it was just a worn down home, the grass at the front long, dead and crusty. It didn't shout welcoming at all. More like pain and suffering; exactly what the small, innocent girl experienced.
To the aunty and her horrific habbits, the girl was just a walking ashtray. An ashtray that grocery shopped, cooked, vacuumed, washed the clothes, cleaned for the witch and her two "babies".
She had gotten used to it all, convincing herself that she'd rather have a roof over her head. But deep down, she knew that she would rather be on the streets. Living in that home was like nothing she had ever experienced. Not for a split second did that girl ever feel a fraction of the love she received, unconditionally, from her late mother.
It was a regular Friday evening, the "home-schooled" child cooking in the small kitchen. Suddenly, she felt a gentle pat on her back, turning around to see her cousin. He was a man of average height, who was still living in his mother's home. He was around the same age as her brother, at 23 years old. Jobless and lazy, he rested at the house for the majority of his time.
"What do you want? I thought you went out with aunt." The girl said, plainly, checking the chicken in the oven.
"Oh, I stayed at home because I told mother that I wanted to say that I enjoyed having a maid here, while it lasted." He smirked, clearly hiding something behind his back.
"What do you mean 'while it lasted?" The girl asked, full of curiosity. She moved her body round, trying to peek at what was behind the taller male.
"We don't need you anymore." He explained, revealing what was behind his back. He was holding a box of matches. "We've gained access to all of your mother's money, so you're practically useless to us now. But don't worry, sweet (f/n). I've got a gift for you."
He swiped a match across the striking surface, causing the small match to ignite.
"I'll make sure you become famous, even if that means sacrificing myself." He smiled, dropping it to the ground, into the discrete liquid below him on the tiled floor. "This is all for mother's sake."
"That bitch and her manipulation quirk!" The small girl cursed, jumping at the man, to shield him from the flames.
Desperately, she grabbed his shirt, dragging him away from the flames. She let go of him, falling on his chest, as she slowly grew light headed. She gripped on to consciousness, refusing to go out yet. Not until he was safe. She was okay in flames, only being harmed internally by the smoke. Unlike him. A regular person, under the influence of another.
She smacked his face, trying to wake him up. Her arms wobbled, as she tried to stay up. Her body couldn't take it anymore. Within seconds, the girl fell to the ground, beside him.
"Help.."
