Nightmares Bring Me To Your Door

Pitch black. Darkness envelopes everything. It's the calm before a storm. If he wanted to he would've stayed in the dark after knowing what awaits him. And he did know. But he couldn't control what happened in this world. No one could control the demons in his mind. It was like watching a movie but through his own eyes. Like being the main character and knowing you're watching it happen, but everything is real and overwhelming. It's intense and vivid. Not again, he wishes. Not again.

His eyes open hazily as he tries to remember where he is. Immediately, he can tell by the wrenching smell of alcohol and blood. This specific stench was one Bakugo could never forget. Everything smelled as if it was rotten and diluted. It's a small and low lighted bar, most of the bulbs have worn out. Somewhere, farther ahead, he can hear the constant flickering of one of the few lightbulbs left. Struggling again, he's stuck in the same place as last time. Chained up hands and straps to keep him in the metal seat. Squirming does no good, he knows this, but he can't help to try and break free. It's the only thing he can do because he doesn't dare look up, knowing what awaits him.

This isn't the first time.

This definitely isn't the last time.

No matter how hard he tries to escape this place he never can and never will.

The wretched voice of Tomura Shigaraki speaks it's sickening words once more. "Oh, the brat's awake again..well do you have an answer for us you stubborn bitch? You know you don't have a choice" He laughed but it sounded bored and annoyed. He was waiting to do something twisted. He sounds insane. Another man walks over and places a knife against his throat, not enough to draw blood but enough to sting his skin. The man gives a throaty chuckle while watching Bakugo squirm at the feeling.

Bakugo closes his eyes. It's the same as always, he tries to tell himself, just fucking wake up. Wake up dammit. But this isn't something he can control, no he can only watch and feel. "Hell no. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not joining your shitty circus." As soon as the last words leave his mouth the knife leaves his throat giving him a moment of relief before a punch gets thrown at his face instead.

Bakugo spits out the blood from the punch just as the man grasps the bottom of his arm and knife meets his skin again. The man holding the knife begins to laugh maniacally as he slashes at him. His vision gets fuzzy again from the pain and the only things he can feel is the wetness, on his cheeks and the blood dripping down his arms. It's a feeling of drowning in his own self and he can't ever be rid of this feeling, of being drenched in his own blood. The blood leaks from his arms onto his pants leaving dark stains that are the least of his worries. His mind feels dazed as he struggles to keep awake.

This isn't real. It's a dream. He always tries to repeat this to himself but the pain is too real. The pain wins over the thoughts trying to wake him up. The pain always wins.

The man stops slashing as Shigaraki walks over. "If you won't join us, I guess you won't be needing your arms." His stupid, maniac, laughter overtakes his ears as he grips Bakugo's bleeding and open arms and sends him in writhing pain. Not only was he gripping at his open wounds but his arms were beginning to dissolve away from his quirk. His arms turned gray and cracked like cement as they were pouring out with more blood. Bakugo screamed and flailed as much as possible but it was no use. He was tied down with no power. No one was going to save him as the light drained out of his eyes.

Bakugo jerked up and tried to hold back the screams from awakening. He tried to go through his ritual of calming himself down. Even if it never really helped him he felt the need to go through this mantra. It wasn't real. You're fucking fine. You're safe. But nothing could erase the images in his head. Nothing could erase the phantom pains that were still there no matter how hard he tried to forget. No matter how hard he squeezed his arms to show himself he was fine, he was still there, that he wasn't hurt. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing just like he couldn't stop the nightmares. He wrapped in on himself inwardly being consumed by his quiet sobs. He was shaking and it felt like all he could do. At least the crying and shaking helped him know he was there and grounded. He knew he was just being pathetic in that moment. Bakugo hated crying, hated how weak it felt, hated how easy it was to do, but no one was there to watch and judge. He didn't know what to do but to just sit there and let it happen.