"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.
...
"I want to hate you, Todoroki Shoto."-- Hebinoya Ikari
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POV—Hebinoya Ikari
Confession
Don't let me go.
Why didn't you listen to me, pretty boy?
I told you not to trust her.
But you and your stupid head
always messes
everything up.
Don't let me go.
Told you so.
I have a thousand words I want to yell at Shoto as I shift painfully in my bed. They tumble through my mind like a messy puzzle.
Why don't you trust me?
Nichi is just trying to manipulate you into hating me. Can't you see that, you dumb moron?
When the door opens, I expect Shoto walk in, and my tongue is prepared with all kinds of insults to lash at him.
"You—"
A flash of blonde hair greets me instead. My stomach drops. Alessia walks in, her blue eyes almost a dull grey. Her usually rigid back is slightly slumped.
I flinch. Overwhelming guilt consumes, temporarily extinguishing the fire in my stomach. For a moment, I expect her to yell at me and tell me I'm useless. It's true. I should have won, and I have only proven myself to be weak.
Wordlessly, her heels click against the ground as she walks to my bedside. She takes a seat, rubbing her eyes. Her makeup is gone. Seeing her so tired makes my stomach clench, and a burning feeling takes root in my chest.
She doesn't speak. I wait for her to do anything, but she just sits there, staring into my eyes. Her eyes seem to bear into my very soul.
When she finally speaks, her voice is softened, unlike her commanding tone.
"You... screamed."
My mouth hangs open loosely as I try to search for the words I need to tell her I'm sorry, but there aren't any that describe how I feel. Distinctly, I am reminded of this same feeling when I was with Father. Every time I failed up, I apologized again and again, but he never forgave me. He never once told me it was okay.
"I was scared. I don't like tight spaces." I weigh each syllable in my mouth, prepared to receive a lashing.
A light shines in Alessia's eyes. Her eyebrows suddenly knot into a sharp dagger. In a second's time, her demeanor completely changes as her back snaps up and her chipped nails grab hold of my wrist.
