A/n
This is going to be deep and very emotional.
]
Breathe. In and out. Repeat.
Sterile white tiles pattern the small bathroom floor. Symmetrical hexagonal shapes covering every square inch. A tiny drop of red in the center. A splotch of aranic crimson clashing against an almost alabaster white.
Breathe. In and out. Repeat.
The ravor felt sticky. The crimson liquid drying quickly against the metallic surface. The hand holidng was shakey and numb. Dull golden eyes examing every fine structure of each cut the small unhinged smile at the sight of red.
Blood.
There was a point of dull satisfaction. A sense of relief caused by this self mutilation. For a long time it's the color she's only been known too. Maybe it's the way her quirk required it. The psychological effect of extremely violent behavior, mood swings and the bipolar tantrums.
The oh so blessed fucking bipolar episodes.
The small sink was covered in blood now. The reflection in the mirror a truly disgusting sight. The usual bun style is gone letting blonde hair flow freely to her shoulders. Clumps of hair matted to her face from sweat and tears. The enlarged canines scraping and piercing her lips. More crimson into the small dainty sink.
The eyes that were mostly sharp now dull and unfosed. The longer the eyes started back at her the more her stomach turned. A feeling of bile im the back of her dry throat. The blood flowing from her wrist kept pooling into the sink. The cuts once thought shallow are deeper. A hiss escaping her lips. She knew she cut to deep, but what was the point in caring. The voices in her head are now silent, but the dizziness still came. The knees buckling and finally her body collapsed to the floor. The sink now almost overflowing with her blood.
Breathe. Accept. Repeat.
Two weeks ago she left the league. It was spontaneous and quick only being sure to leave an apology letter for twice and dabi. There was one thing about being crazy that most people were afraid of...the unpredictability of the mind.
Maybe it was when her subconscious finally appeared. Maybe when all the depression and anxiety finally kicked in when she held a knife. Maybe the danger pf nearly dying caused a shift in her being, her very soul to crumble do to all her actions.
Ironic really at the thought of blood made her happy. The half lidded eyes gazed down at the blood staining the floor. The blood that was hers.
It looked ugly.
Breathe. Accept. Repent.
Memories of her family flowed through her hazy mind. Memories of her parents before her quirk manifested. The smile on the face of her beautiful mother turning and morphing into a look of disgust. The eyes of every person she killed flooding into the deepest crevice of guilt and shame.
It wasn't her fault.
The quirk made it worse
Shallow breathes leaving her chest like a fish gasping for air. A cold numbness encasing her body as dread finally seeped into her veins.
"This...is it.."
A memory of green fluffy hair appeared. Emerald eyes and a genuine smile upon a freckled face. Bitter tears seeping through the corners of her eyes.
"Maybe in another life...we could have been friends..maybe...more..."
The finally words written in a letter to Izuku Midoriya. The last and final words she wanted to say. Accept. Repent. Regret.
The world was dead around her. A black void swallowing her deeper and deeper to nothingness.
Accept. Repent. Death.
The last thing she saw before the void was beautiful green eyes.
Than nothing.
]
To clean ones hands required vigorous lathering, scrubbing and a bunch of soap.
And bleach.
It was a commom routine after every use of her quirk. The ability to create acid was unique and versatile. Even if it required certain set backs like making sure to always not let people eat after you, exessive control both physically and emotionally, and of course a constant if not compulsive need for cleanliness.
Even if her personality seemed scattered and a her room a mess. The thought of personal hygiene was a must.
Always required.
The bubbly and energetic persona holding onto a deeper self conscious being. The pretending and faux confidence making her wall umbreakable to even the very observation of her teachers and peers.
And the pills. The pills always helped...
Prozac mostly and if not anything to calm her nerves. The winning edge so to speak if her nerves actually failed her.
Finally drying off her hands she reached for a little plastic bag caring a few little white pills. Gulping one down swiftly she glanced at her appearance in the mirror.
"What a monster..."
"She looks like a demom!"
"Freak!"
A fake smile covered her face as she left the rest room. Unaware of the cracks in her mask as she walked away.
]
Appearance was everything. From the way you held yourself to how you act. Image in a way showed to type of character you were.
Considering no one actually knew what she looked like made it even harder for her to stand out.
She made up for it in cute outfits and being the "girly girl" of the class.
Though the world couldn't see her.
She still could see herself.
Contrary to the belief of her being the epiphany of a cute girl made her glad others really couldn't see her.
Truth be told, she stayed invisible to avoid the truth.
No one needed to see the Real her.
No one needed to see the pale complexion that was nearly white with patches of black spots in random areas. No one needed to see the purple hue of her lips and the shap teeth she had. No one needed to see the hair that was long and obsidian black. The color unchanging no matter how many times she tried to dye it and oily texture it carried.
No one really needed to see her completely black eyes that scared away everyone.
It was better to be invisible than to be feared...and she knew that better than anyone.
Every other girl was beautiful and blessed and she envied every single one of them.
The other perk of invisibility..
No one sees the tears she sheds every time she feels inferior that's why she wore cute outfits and kept up the bright girly attitude.
To ensure no one saw the ugly truth.
]
A/n
Feels. Major feels. Tell me how you feel about this.