Petals of h̵̨̚a̶̰̐t̶̼̂é̷̩ love

Petals 1

(play the music while reading to add more effect)Nothing matters. Nobody loves you. Go die. Everything is my fault. I did this to myself. I deserve this. You should go kill yourself. Nothing you do will bring your mom back. You murderer. You are a fucking useless child. "Sero? Are you okay?"  The whole squad was now staring at me because I had ran my hands through my hair in a distressed way. I realized they all stopped eating. I looked up. Mina was the one who questioned me with this bull shit. "Oh yeah I'm fine." I was l̶̢͝y̷͖͗i̶̛̥ǹ̷̘g̸̡̛ telling the truth. everything was a-Okay! "I-in fact I'm perfect! I was just thinking about our test tommorow." Denki smiled like he was being forced. "yeah.. Me too dude." Bakugou commented unessisarly that he knew he was going to ace it. I laughed. Not like it was real, but I laughed.

                                                                                         ※—※  

I looked in the mirror. I didn't know this person. He had soft lips, nice medium length hair, a bright smile, and nothing to hide or fear. I stopped smiling. How much was smile worth?  "people keep telling me that life goes on but for me? that's the worst part." that was a quote from a Latin American. Sometimes I felt like it was true. Something wasn't right. my body moved before I could. I reached for the bottom drawer of my dresser. I pulled it out all the way. on the brown wooden platform right above the floor was a Japanese 'stainless' steel knife. There was blood all over the wood platform and knife. I dropped the knife and walked to my door. I locked it and put a chair on the knob for good measure. I walked back over to the blooded dresser and knife. Nothing was stopping me so, I picked up the knife and starred like I wasn't in control of my body. I rolled down my sleeve to many of other cuts. As in not one or two, but  more than thirty above my elbow. I looked at my reflection in the knife. I slammed the knife down into my arm. I must have hit a nerve because My arm started to rapidly bleed. I yelped in pain as I dropped the knife and grabbed my wrist. A single tear rolled down my cheek. I looked back in the mirror of my vanity.  I started to laugh hysterically. Like I was a psychopath. I picked the knife back up and slammed it into my arm a few more times, until a familiar boy asked from my door "Hanta? Are you okay? you sound like you're in pain." I stopped the laugh cry. Me, Denki and Mina had started to call each other by our first names. It was kind of weird. " I started to stutter not wanting  him to find out. "Y-Yeah I'm G-Fine!" I dropped the knife by accident. It clattered on the ground louder than expected it to. It was like I could almost hear Denki's expression go from a resting face to a worried frantic expression. Almost like he cared. Did he? No.

Denki P.O.V

I hear a metal clatter on the floor. I start to get worried. "Hanta... I'm-"  "NO- I mean no. Don't come in." My expression changed immediately. Ashido standing next to me starts to jiggle on the door handle.

Back to Sero P.O.V

Denki starts to mess with the door handle. I now start to get worried that he's going to somehow open it. I rush to pull down my sleeves and put the drawer back in. I kick the knife under my dresser and  rush over to the door. I quickly move the chair and unlock the door. It swings open. I fall backwards. Ashido and Denki were standing above me. They both knew something wasn't right. A bead of sweat glides down my face. Ashido helps me up. "Hey..." She asks. "what dropped? It sounded like glass or medal." I started to panic. She knew something was up. The voices came back. they whispered to me. Help...

j̸̘̫̗̺́́̚u̶̳̝̝͘s̷̨͔̾͒ṱ̴̦̤͑͘ ̸̞̂͋g̶̪̳̖͊̇͑͗̑̈ͅó̶̧̦̰̎̈́̆͜ ̵̰̓̈́͒̚͘d̷̢̺̳͑̚i̵̜͈͚͗̍̂̕͝ḛ̶̛̫̰̏̃ͅ.̵͚̝̬͉͇͗́̋̑͑̽ ̶̢͚̲̃N̸̥͚̳͈̙͈̍̋͌̊o̵̟̯̾͊̚b̷̜̮͚̍̑ó̴̠͎̌͗͂̈́͠d̶̠̓̊͒͝y̴̮̝̺̞̮͑͊̃ ̸͈̬͖̑̇͗̿̽́w̶̞͕͍̺͔̃̿͋̏̿̄ǎ̸͎̮̼̩̰̫̓n̶͕̓̑̋͝t̵̜̭͓͑̅s̶̞̍̓̏̂̊ ̷̛̥̪̘̯̈̈́̔̈́ẙ̸͎͔̬̣̓̈́̓o̷͎̬͙̹͎̊̇ũ̸̧̗͗͜.̷̞̠͆͝ ̷̢̰̪̃̎̚͜j̷̳͎̰͍͛̓́̾̌u̸͎̬̍̇̒s̵̡̡̘̟̊̿̊t̵̡̳͛̀̈́̽͊̀ ̴̨͉̞̀̒͘͝g̶͓͛̈́̐̕õ̴̩̭̺̂͐̊̕͜ ̶͍̀̾̔͊͝͝k̶̨̪̰̠͇͆̈́͂̋ì̴͎͍͉͋̌̊̄l̵̢̾̄̉̏̐͝l̵̠̹̹̥̪̇͛́̎ͅ ̴͎̌̈̈́͘ỳ̸̝͛͋̐̏͆ȏ̶͚̈́̈́̓u̸̹̹̦͓͙͒̊͑́͐ͅr̷͚̺̼̬̕̚s̸̡͕̤̘̫͔̓̑ȩ̵̨̈́̒͒̀̆͝l̷͖̀̕f̵̪̲̬̙͕͚͋̄̔͊͑ ̷̫̖͈̤̲̱̿̚̕ā̷̭l̵͔̮̪̘̹̤̾̆̾́̑͝r̶̗̥̞̖̻̻̆̃́͛e̸̔̃̆ͅá̴͔̰̘̙̓̈́͝ḋ̷̟͓̱̱̊̿͜y̷͈̌̍̀̈́̇.̷͙̜͋̈́́̂ ̷̘͈́̆̇̏ÿ̷̤̺͖̪o̵̧̧̜̱͓͚̐̏̋̐̽u̵̹͈̻̍̋̑͒r̵̲̲͘ ̴̖̺̻̅͒̽̑͝t̵̥͆̍̀̌́ḣ̸̦͎̮̘̎͜e̵̘̟̖͎̐̀ ̶̧̬͔̭̤̿̏͊͆͝r̴̨͓͉̗̺͂ẽ̶̻̦̪̰ă̷̡̰̜̺͒̔̊̏s̴̳͖̓o̸̙̖̎̀̏̏͊͜ͅn̵̝̖̱̲̈̾̌̽ͅͅ ̴̳͍̗̲̝́̓̈́̕ẙ̵̛̩́͆͑͠o̴̪̼͖͈̯̲̔͒̍u̵̲͓̩̫̽̐́̾͗͠r̷̠͖͎͚̲͖̉̎̋̈͊ ̷̧̣̞͙͓́͋͑m̸̭̯̞̿͂̀͆̕͝ͅö̸̯̺͉͔̂̃m̶̮̈ ̴̢̪̣̣͂̐͜d̶̢̹̤̼̂i̵̧̧̢͉̤̒e̷̡̬̪̠̅̈̈́͒̈̿d̶͇̐̏͝͠.̴̧̧̫̫̙̲̋͌̀͊ ̸̢͐̓̌̃͌͋f̷̗͖͇̩̦͖̉a̷̟̹̭̗̓͋͆̅̀̆g̵̛̬̰̙͓̀̈̚.̸̢̤̪̲̙̞͑ ̸̨͓̃̿͆͛ͅu̷̦͕̪͍̩̥͝g̶̡̡̬̫̃̆͜ͅl̷̳̄̚y̴͙̯̾͊̀̉͝.̸͖͉̮͐̀̓ ̶̧̱̋̓̂͗̂ś̷̘̻͉͔̽͌̊̄͜t̷̖̬͆ṷ̶̧͚̬̠̇̅̄̕p̶̗̖͉̥̟̐̆̍̄͝i̷͓͓̥͓̒͑̍̿̚d̸̢̬̖͍̫́̿̌.̶̫͉͗̇ ̵̪̤͌̊̇f̴̜͓̪͖̄̄̄̐͋͜a̷͚̗͍̝̦̦͛͒͘t̵̹̑̔͛.̷̪̜̮̼̼̊ ̸̞̑͛͒̊͐ṥ̷͉̗͙̿t̶̼̦͒̓͂o̸̧̨̳͕͌̅͘͜p̸͎̟̪̏̈́̌̕ ̴̢̯̪̯̠̐e̵̡̤̼͛̒̋̋͝͝ͅâ̸̻̫͔̯̔̓͠t̵͇̮̮̗̮̅̏î̴̛̳̿̀̓n̵̢̪̥̫̱͍͊͛͑g̶͍͕̈́̀̽̓̋̊.̶͇̅̃͌̾͌͠ ̸̡̼̋̓̇͊Y̷͉͇̣̽̇O̶͕͙̍́͂͂̚͜Ú̴̱͊̿̐̓ ̷͇͍̖̬̦̦̾Ď̷̩̜͈̟̚͝O̴̻̍̃̑̀̎N̴̯̈́͛'̸̬̈́̐̚T̵̡̛͍̯͚̩͆ ̴̧̬͈͍́͂̉̓̐̃M̷̠͋͗͊̋Ạ̴̡̘͈̠͎̈́́̒T̴̛̼̈̊͠T̴͍̝̟̒ͅÊ̴͇̹̝̥̜̓̅̇̌̏Ŕ̷̢̞͔̤͇͑͒̋̃͘ ̴̘̓̉̃͑̾T̶̤̻͓̼̓͆̓̈́O̷͕̥̗̫͘ ̴̧̼͎͌̋͆̌̀ͅT̸͙̬̼̪̲̗͛̀̒̄̀H̸̨̱̤̭̻͊̔E̷̺̰̻̮̦̝̿͒̍̌͒͛M̵̥̲͗͒̎̃͋͒!̴̘̹̞͌͌̎͌̅

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