"Don't let me go."
"Don't worry, I won't ever let you go. I promise."
Ikari's scar is the first thing that people notice. And it drives them away, since it is the symbol of her father, one of the most feared villains of all time... before he died.
...
"It's just so dark and empty in my head that even I'm scared of what hides in it."-- Ikari Hebinoya
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POV— Hebinoya Ikari
Recovery
Don't let me go.
No one's ever supposed to feel this way.
Humans are supposed to be filled with passion, emotion.
Then tell me this—
Why do I feel like this?
Why do I feel so hopeless?
Don't let me go.
I wake up in a room that is filled with blinding white. When I blink open my eyes, white hits me-- everything from the pale walls to the ivory ceilings seems to awaken me. This must be the nurse's office. I suck in a sharp breath, checking if my ribs still hurt. They don't. A sticky, musty feeling stuck to my forehead tells me that the gash on my head has been wrapped up by bandages. My body feels stiff, like cardboard. Even though much of my pain has been alleviated, my hands and legs still throb with a strange ache.
I do not bother to get up. The villain attack repeats over and over in my head.
"Damn..."
I just hope everyone made it out alive.
A strange, weighing feeling resides in my stomach. I blink and stare up at the flickering fluorescent lights above me. My mind feels strangely empty, unlike the many instances where I seem to have an overload of thoughts. The room is silent except for the occasional groan that escapes my lips and the buzzing of the lights. The slight burn of medicine and bandages reaches my nose, and I close my eyes.
Why am I so empty?
Memories of Shojiro and Father flood into my head. I furrow my brows, trying to force them to get out, but they just seem to torture me even more. I can almost hear Father's words as he tells Shojiro to kill me. Shojiro.
Shojiro, Shojiro, Shojiro—
Shojiro—
I didn't even realize tears had sprung up in my eyes, and now they are cascading down my face. A tight, nauseous feeling corrodes in my chest, and when I try to get rid of it, the feeling only spreads. A small hiccup slips out of my mouth as I try to gasp for more air, but I squeeze my mouth shut. No one can hear me. If they hear me, they will try to comfort me.
I don't need comfort.
I take a quiet, shaky breathe, but it turns into a wave of hiccups. A lump sits in my throat, threatening to escape as a wail, but I keep it in with all my strength. I take in another lungful of air, but it comes barreling out again and I have repeat, again and again. I can only repeat one thought.
