The Cure (Assassination Classroom)

TWO

"Where have you been." Karma's Father growled quietly. It wasn't so much a question as it was a threat...

"I-I was at school... they ran o-vertime." Karma stammered, his mouth dry, eyes dull. His Father staggered drunkenly, but still very menacingly, towards him.

"I feed you, I clothe you, I house you! And you decide to run around late?!" he shouted at his son. Karma tensed up in fear as his Father grabbed a fistful of his flaming red hair and yanked Karma towards him. The boy scrunched his eyes shut - he knew this would happen. Now he had just got to face the pain.

"This'll teach you, you ungrateful brat!" his Father spat in his face. He used the hand that wasn't in Karma's hair to punch him in the face, and knock him onto the floor. Karma's hand flew immediately to his nose where the blood oozed out.

"Get up boy." his Father commanded coldly. Karma did what he was told. Outside these four walls, he was the puppeteer, the ringmaster, the crazy guy, but here he was the weak puppet. Dangling from his master's strings, helpless and alone.

His Father glared at him for a while before he pushed his son up against the wall with his hand around Karma's neck. "You're a disgrace. No wonder your Mother left us." he glared at the teenager who had a single tear that fell down his cheek. (There is literally nothing on their parents, we know Karma's family has some money because Kunigigaoka is a top school therefore is expensive, but I'm just gonna say that their Mother left, because that's how this story is gonna play out.) Karma would retaliate - COULD retaliate but where would that land him? In a foster family on the other side of the country? Away from 3-E, Koro Sensei, the assassinatin, Nagisa, all of his friends? No. It's not worth it. He just had to wait until they killed their teacher, then he could buy his own place. Until then, he had to deal with these beatings every single day.

His Father took a sudden step towards him and snapped Karma out of his trance. Karma looked down at his feet submissively.

Mr. Akabane (for the sake of this story he's called Hiromoto so I don't have to keep writing 'his Father') pushed his son against the wall and gripped his throat tight. This maneuver shocked Karma, and he clawed at Hiromoto's hands.

"You breathe oxygen because I provide it to you. You drink because I allow you water. You eat because I let you. Therefore, you are alive because I say. Don't forget your place, which I also fully agree is in the End Class you pathetic, miserable rat." Hiromoto hurled insults like fists and each one hurt Karma more.

Hiromoto released his grip on his son's throat, and Karma fell to the ground, whilst the missing oxygen flooded his body. His Father started kicking him, in the back, the stomach, the head. Karma curled up into a ball on the floor, tears staining his face.

Why does it have to be like this. I'm meant to be strong. Why can't I just stand up for myself? These thoughts twisted and turned through his mind, laughed at him, mocked him and increased the throbbing pain that resonated through his body.

After what felt like an eternity of insults, punches, kicks and new scars Hiromoto had decided that enough was enough. He downed some more alcohol and walked out of the room, his action still slurred from the drink, leaving his son curled up in a ball bleeding on the cold, hard floor.