Crimson Murders

Chapter Seventeen

So, this chapter is my favorite. I mean, the beginning half is my favorite. I really enjoyed writing this and if this seems somewhat familiar, I used a scene out of the Lovely Bones. And, uh, don't worry about Izuku explaining, everything will be alright.

Eyelids blink open and the eyes underneath are somewhat blinded by a bright light. The owner of the pair sits up with a tired and pained groan, arms shaking underneath his weight. He looks around to find himself in his room. He frowns as he wonders how he even got there. Wasn't he in Hosu? What is wrong with his room? There's a different feel to it, it's freezing as if Todoroki decided to make the room his own personal winter wonderland. The hues and saturation of the interior is lighter, resembling an old shirt that one loved so much and it faded in color from when they washed it over and over again. The colors can resemble a wilted garden from a drought, from neglect, before it turns into hideous shades of brown. The room's interior is pale in comparison to the one he has grown accustomed to—the once lively, thriving with color, All Might themed on one side and crime scene pictures on the other side of his room is not that way anymore. Almost like it's been abandoned for a long time.

The Champion of Death walks throughout the bedroom, his hand ghosting over the figurines—careful, almost afraid that he's going to break it. The pictures on his bulletin board are so faded one cannot see the details all that well. A rattling sound resonates and he calls to his mother. He turns to the door and slowly opens it. Soft and slow steps, he takes soft and slow steps as he silently creeps out into the hallway, calling out for his mom—maybe it was her. Maybe everything that happened against Stain never happened, but the way the world around him is—he isn't sure. Out in the hallway, the walls are eerily white, reflecting that of a hospital. The lights in front of him flicker and threaten to go out. It's just desolate. No nurses, no visitors, no patients. Where is everyone? Who made that noise? He walks past the threshold and continues down the hall. It's like in those movies where one will continue walking and there's no end. Midoriya stops, glancing around the hallway before rushing to the only room open. Slamming the door open, he gags at the sight. He gawks at the sight of blood that's splattered all around the walls and floor. This is not a hospital room, no hospital has a room that looks like this. No, it looks like a room in a newly made house—almost looking like the bathroom but bare. The white tiled walls, white tiled floors all have a carmine color to it. Wide eyes stare at the body in front of him. One of the victims, the last victim that had been found. He had been at the crime scene. There are shoe prints—his own. He looks down and his clothes are covered in the metallic liquid. In his hand is a knife. He gasps and throws it down.

  Stumbling out of the room, he ends up in a different one. This one isn't as bad. The color is still bleak and faint, but he recognizes it. Homeroom. It's disheveled. The windows are broken, glass littering over the floor and tops of desks. The same desks have been unceremoniously pushed up against the walls to where they make a small aisle leading to a metal closet that never was there before. Why is it here? Why is there an ominous feeling around it? Izuku jumps. There's a banging sound coming from it. Someone is inside and banging harshly against the door. The locker is shaking—trembling and jumping, whoever is inside, they are fighting hard to get out. Creeping forward, Midoriya tentatively reaches forward to grab the knob. Before he can get there, the door harshly swings open to show him the rotted corpse of All Might hanging by a rope. The scene causes his heart to jump out of his chest. He shrieks loudly, scrambling back and hitting his head on a desk.

Coming to, he's in his living room. There stands his mom. He's breathing harshly, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Mom?" he whispers hesitantly. He moves forward but screams again when his mom turns. Her eyes are gone, her lips stitched into a smile, and lacerations on her chest and arms. Her stomach and intestines hanging out—she's been disemboweled. Bile rises in his throat as he gets flashbacks to those Corpses when he was younger. Those that hung at the edge of his vision, staring at him and waiting for him to speak one word towards them. While he may not have been the object of their resentment, he was the only human that they can touch and bring to the land of the dead to harm him. His mother now full of hatred and want to take revenge for her death—this is what she has become because of him. He had made the mistake of speaking. She lunges forward, her nails—now long and sharp claws—scratch at his clothes and flesh. "No! Stop! Leave me alone!" he commands but it's no use. Whatever authority he had over the Ghouls is now gone. He is at the mercy of his mother's wrath. He is reminded how cursed he is with every swipe of her rotted hands.