Love for dying boys [Todobaku]

3 | Shoto Todoroki

-Todorokis POV-

My father walks in to my room "Son pack your things, you will go to the hospital tomorrow morning" he stands still in the middle of my room, probably expecting an answer.

I look down at my phone again and answer quietly, but still not loud enough so he can hear "Yeah whatever"

He walks out and slams the door shut. Asshole.

I've been struggling with depression since, I don't even know, since forever? But I started to self harming when I was twelve.

Those where really hard times, you could even say fucked up. Nothing felt right anymore, and life just lost it's meaning.

I guess I'll go in the hospital so they will have control over me, or just because my 'father' doesn't want the reputation of our family to go down. He is like that.

"Enji Todoroki's son in therapy, what a shame for the family" He doesn't wants rumors like that. I think he expects something like "Enji Todoroki's son spotted in the hospital. An accident?" The man is just out of his mind.

Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. In this family it's different, apparently. Reputation over health, this is what matters here.

I put my phone down and stand up. I grab a bag and start to pack my things.

They'll probably look for things I can hurt myself with. I just put something sharp -razor blade?- in my phone case, my phone case is black so they won't see anything, and also won't suspect anything. I put a couple of razor blades in the side pocket of my bag.

Once finished packing my things, I lock the door and go in to my bathroom and lock the door there too. I take out a blade from it's hiding spot and sit down on the floor.

I pull up my sleeve and remove old bandages. My arm is full of scars, new and old cuts and burns.

It hurts, sure. But you get used to it, sadly.

It's easy for people to say to just stop doing it. It's hard. Once you think you're getting better, you break down again, and everything just repeats.

God I hate myself, even for breathing, for living. I just want to stop being here. Stop existing, like wipe out any trace of my existence, so it wouldn't hurt anyone. My siblings would be sad if I'm gone, maybe that's the part that hold me here?

My hand is shaking a little bit. No matter how often I've done this, there is always this little panic, panic sliding the blade over your skin. But there is nothing that stops you.

I look at the door in front of me, and put the blade to my skin, then slide it across, multiple times.

Scary what a person can do to themselves.

I stand up and clean the cuts, bandage them and throw the old bandages away.

I unlock the doors and go down in the kitchen.

"Is dinner ready?" I ask with no emotion

"There is still food from yesterday, in the fridge" the old man sits on the couch and drinks again. He is a police officer and drinks all the time, is that even allowed? (ACAB bitches)

I open the fridge and take out some food.

After I finished eating I go back in my room, and since I don't have much to do, I just lie in bed and think about nothing and everything, just what comes to my mind.

I don't get it, why do I hate my life so much, where did it all go wrong? I'm just a waste of space, really. The amount of hate, abuse, homophobia, from this man, sometimes it's just overwhelming.