Crawl (Persona 5)

Chapter 1 - Nothing At All

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Domestic abuse, self harm, alcoholism

A/N: Before you read this I recommend you go and listen to a song called "Crawl" by Miss May I. Named after this. Sorry for lack of updates, life is hard. I apologize profusely.

"Such a nuisance. I don't know why the fuck we even had you."

"I know."

"You cost us so much fucking money, and we just don't have it, you know."

"I know."

 "We'd all be better off without you."

"I know."

"Can't you say anything else, you stupid little prick?!"

THUMP.

Akira sat up with a jolt. Placing a shaking hand to his sweaty forehead, he silently cursed himself as he looked down the bed and saw he'd woken Morgana.

"Akira..?"

"It's fine. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"If you say so..." the black and white cat shut his eyes again, though Akira could sense the tension. 

Sighing at how abrupt he'd been with his friend, he slid over to the edge of the bed and stood up.

Just like dad..

"Sorry.. I didn't mean to snap. I'm going to get a glass of water."

"It's okay," Morgana reassured him, "I'll see you in a second."

As Akira walked down the stairs, he felt his legs trying to give out on him. He was exhausted, but couldn't sleep properly, because every time he did, he had those nightmares.

It was odd. He'd always had nightmares about his parents. About the drugs, the alcohol. About his mother losing teeth trying to protect him. The blood. The powerlessness he felt when he was unable to help his mother.

But never had he had these dreams so frequently. It wasn't since watching Akechi die, listening to his stories of Shido, the abuse. Akechi was another one. He couldn't save him either.

Almost falling into the bathroom, he ran the cold water and splashed it onto his face before looking up at his pale face in the mirror. He was starting to form dark circles under his eyes. Luckily it wasn't too visible with the bruises and injuries that still hadn't quite faded from his incarceration and drugging. 

Even the thought still made him shudder. The pain, the powerlessness he felt at the hands of those people, the drugs - which had left bruised track marks in his arms - the beatings. The confusion when he had to recall his story, that even he was unsure of. He wished he could forget. He was always told a lot of trauma victims often had hazy or partial memories of the events they suffered, but Akira could remember every sickening detail. The bones breaking, the feeling of the needle piercing his veins, the confusion and the overdose. He must have been "lucky", he figured.

But the worst part is he'd felt that all before. At home. Before everything happened.

Every time those memories attempted to resurface, however, Akira was quick to push them back. Most of those things his friends had also suffered, and he had been their strength. He could never let them know he'd also suffered, lest they never trust him again. He didn't want their sympathy. 

So instead, he took a razor blade from the cabinet above the sink, pulled the bandage on his arm down slightly, and pressed the blade to one of his other injuries from his arrest. This one had been a particular nuisance during healing, and had taken a long time. Surely nobody would notice if it took a little longer.

He revelled in the moment. In the feeling of his warm blood soaking his arm, and the bandage. The blood dripping into the sink. He let himself fade away for a moment - just a fleeting moment - before quickly cleaning things up, exiting the bathroom and getting himself a glass of water.

"You okay now?" Morgana asked as he returned to the attic.

Akira sheepishly scoffed and took a sip of his water.

"I told you I'm fine."

He then returned to his bed, laying awake the remainder of the night with his fingers pressed against the new wound, the sharp pain the only reminder he had currently that he was still alive.