Let down - Haikyuu x reader oneshots

Saviour || W. Ushijima

This chapter contains mature and sensitive content, such as abuse, mental health problems and alcohol. Do not read further if you do not feel well or have problems with such subjects. Also, do not romanticize any of these subjects! This is a story trying to show that you can get out of situations like these.

Also bringing this back from the dead.

Also, this chapter mostly focuses on you and not Ushijima!

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You aggressively throw your textbook into your bedroom wall.

"FUCK!!!"

You sigh as your eyes start to water. You wipe your tears with your shirt and hold your hands over your face, hiding from your own shame. Exactly when you feel like you're suffocating, you start to stress as your anxiety builds up. Another failed test, and another call home.

Distant pounds tell you that you have to hide. Fast as a mouse you run to your closet and hide in a carton box, as small as those you use when you move houses, waiting paitently for your parents to go away. Through the wall and door to your room there is a distant voice, screaming your name.

Please go away.. please go away.. please...

You close your eyes as you hear your door swing open. The impact on the wall behind it as it slams shakes your whole body. With a worried face you hold your breath and try to sit as still as possible.

"Y/n where the fuck ARE YOU?!"

Your mother's screams sends a shiver down your spine and you feel how drops of sweat run down your neck.

Please... go away...

You hear the closet's door swing open and by sheer fear panic you freeze. You stop breathing completely and freeze while opening your eyes.

Stone. A grip as rough as stone, pulling you off from your box and dragging you onto your floor and carpet. The stink of alcohol and nicotine, a smell you've gotten used to, attacks your nose. As you clench, bearing for impact, you hear your phone buzz. Your favourite song rings in the room as Ushijima's number light up your phonescreen. Your mother ignores it. Her fists and kicks doesn't affect you anymore, as a result of you being used to it.

You close your eyes again. You spit out a flood of blood. The numbness through your body increases and you stop reacting to the fists breaking your muscles. An usual feeling of your muscles and intestines being deformed and crushed runs through your body. You see how your mother takes a glass bottle and swings it around you, dangerously close.

When will she stop.. Hold on a little further, she will be done soon...

You feel your blood dripping onto your carpet, blending in with old, dried blood. Scared you try to move your hand up to your head. Your mum pauses and watches you laying on the floor with no emotion. With hesitant moves you run your fingers around your forehead. It stings.

A large scar still has shards of glass in it.

Is it time to give up?

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A small string of light. Enough for a person to realize their worth and to not stop. Walking in a tunnel, and seeing the light in the end. Running and seeing your goal. The feeling of being free, released and a burden rising from your shoulders. The pride of overcoming whatever's in your way.