Sleep.
It's been the one thing I've been craving lately. Even if I rest every night. It's still not enough. How could it ever be? When at 1:45am and 3:30am my bedroom door opens up. And still I wake up on time. I sit and eat breakfast with my family. Everyone has a staring problem. Natuso is staring at me from my one side. Fuyumi isn't innocent either, she keeps looking down into my lap. Each time she takes a bite of her bread. But worst of all is that father dearest. Who sits right in front of me. Oh he doesn't bother trying to hide his staring. The whole time I eat. He's looking directly at my mouth. Watching the way my lips move. How my throat bobs when I swallow down my eggs.
I'm bad too... his staring bothers me the least. I welcome it.
My body is caught between the crossfire. I want to eat faster. So I can hurry up and leave. But I'm...uncomfortable..very uncomfortable so I take my time. Sometimes I fumble with my chopsticks. Or I choke on my water. The food is bad enough as is. My throat is sore and anything that goes down.
I can't picture it correctly. I don't feel the textures against my tongue anymore.
I feel a sticky liquid, that won't go all the way down. I need to use force again and again. Breathe through my nose, my mouth is filled to capacity.
"Dude it's too cold now can you stop?"
But it's not enough, it won't go down fast enough. There's more pouring in. Breathing through my nose doesn't work at all. I hear a faint clink in my ears. The sound of scraping against the floor. More clattering too loud, I can't handle it.
"Hey Shou-Chan?"
I'll vomit! It won't stay down! It won't! I feel a hand grasp my arm. It's hot, too hot I'm down on my knees already. He's almost done a few more gulps. I better not vomit, he'll be disappointed if I do.
The hand tightens around me and suddenly I'm being lifted from my knees. A hard and scorching smack is delivered to my face. Cracking the ice I hadn't even noticed was manifesting. Sealing off my nose. "Dad stop!" I hear Fuyumi yell as my head space starts to gain clearance.
'Slowly now...look around at what I've done.' My food is frozen over. Natsuo is trapped in his chair. I've frozen his foot to the ground. 'Well good maybe he'll stop sneaking into my room when I'm gone. Nobody else is quite reserved enough. To just use my underwear. No they like my body. He only likes the idea of me. Because he hates me. He's jealous what the fuck is there to be jealous of?'
My father has me by my uniform shirt. A hand rested on the left side of my face. After already hitting me full force on the right. His quirk is still activated. 'I swear he must get off, on the fact I'm the only one he can touch like this.'
And Fuyumi she's bold. 'Insane and has been ever since mother left. More and more it looks like she's trying to take her place. You're not fooling anyone that's mother's nightgown take it off! You're tainting her things!' She's holding father from behind. Pressed way too close to him. 'I don't like it, get off of him he's not yours.' But if that's the case, she can keep latched to him.
They can be happy with each other.
Just don't touch me...Stop touching me!
"Shouto are you out of your mind?! If you're having an issue controlling your quirk. Stay home I can teach you how to handle it." I stand quickly brushing his hand away from me. Fanning the flames and I know my attitude is palpable. But I could care less right now.
'Distance I need distance!'
"No I'm fine. I'm going to school." I grab my bag off the chair. And it's snatched from my hand. Held over top of my head. I hate how ridiculously tall he is. I hate it! I hate it! I hate this powerlessness.
And I realize now what he said it wasn't a suggestion.
I had acted out.
Actions have consequences.
So today I'm staying home.
I am directed to my bedroom at 8:00am. When everyone else has left the house. And father has gone into his office. I take a look around my room and cringe. As I undress and put a set of pajamas on. Both short sleeve and shorts after what happened earlier. My body feels one hundred degrees too high.
Do I live here?
Yes.
Does it feel like it?
No.
A dirty clothes hamper is unorganized. The one shirt I had folded into place. Was tossed haphazardly back inside. Natsuo has been in here. Through my things again, it has no end. Every single day I set up the trap. It's always ruined early in the morning. I know now why it takes him so long. To get to the breakfast table in the morning. I want to burn those clothes. Who knows how much semen is on them. Bleach doesn't feel strong enough, to correct the mess he's left behind.
I flop down on the futon. Eyes fixated on the ceiling for a bit, before gazing at the open window.
'Jump go head first! Do it! Do it! I've got nothing to lose!' I climb off dragging my weary body over. And shutting said window with ease. I've been hearing that suggestion so long. I try not to let it bother me. My body tingles as I lay back down. Letting my eyes fall shut with no effort I drift.
Sleep
It's the only time I'm alone. Where I'm safe. I don't struggle beneath spread thighs. That keep grazing my cock with skimpy lace underwear. I'm not shushed, when I say I don't want it. I don't have a nipple shoved into my mouth. I'm not obligated to suck until they're hard enough. When I rest, I don't feel cold hands pumping my length. Slathering it with lubricant, as if her pussy is never wet enough. It's abhorrent the sloshing sounds fill my ears. If I look down I can see the way we're connected. I also see the threads of slick snapping. As she bounces around on me. My hands tear at the sheets. Before covering my ears. Because she gets chatty when she's close.
I just can't take it anymore. I don't want to hear anymore.
"I love you. You make me so happy. Mommy loves you so much."
You're my sister and I love you too...but you're sick very sick. A delusional bitch. You'll never be a mother to me. You keep using my body.
"Stop please! Someone make it stop!" A hand yanks my hair roughly. I grit my teeth as my knees dig into the hardwood floor. Back arched uncomfortably nails scratching at the surface. Father won't even fuck me on the futon. What did I do wrong this time?
"Shouto if you were strong enough. You could.. stop this yourself. Though I don't see why you would." Of course it's all because I'm weak. And it makes sense what he says. Why would I want this to stop? My cock is hard leaking onto the floor. I'm so close it's starting to grow painful. The way he strokes me at the base. I'm throwing my hips back against him. My ass is stretched further with each thrust. Even as tears roll down my face. My mouth hangs agape, semen still sticking to the roof.
While I scream stop so many times I lose count.
That's a lie.
Fifty seven times, that's how many times I say stop. And we're only halfway through.
Well there's no point in saying it any faster. It won't speed him up. Always...he always takes his time with me. I have lost count, of how many times this has happened. When did it start? Age eleven or twelve I can't remember anymore. It's frightening because I've only just turned thirteen. All I recall is the number of times he thrust into me. Because that's when I scream. My head is hung low onto the floor. I'm a sweating, panting, crying mess.
And I...
I...moan for him. Because I need to know later, that I've been good. I'm trying my best.
"P-Please daddy don't s-stop!"
Besides I like it, I shouldn't...god knows that I shouldn't but I do.
"I w-want it! I need your cum! F-Fuck me please, please, pleas-" My voice is too loud in my own ears.
I can't stop begging while I cum. Into his hand, out onto the floor. Next thing I know my whole body tenses. As I salivate at the feeling, of his thick searing sperm filling me up. This made me. Now it's in me. A hand is patting my flank. "Good boy Shouto I'm s-so proud of you."
It's humiliating how much I blush.
My eyes flutter open weakly and a sob wracks through my body.
"I c-can't sleep?" Chest heaving as I rub at my eyes. They're wet I'm crying again. Too much I cry too much and father hates it. "I ca-can't even sleep anymore?" There's no escape from this. No matter what I do, we're all still family. Standing up abruptly I pace back and forth in this room. Until I eventually end up at the window. 'JUMP GO HEAD FIRST DO IT!' I swing the panel open. Heart banging rapidly against my chest. The air is relaxing peace inducing, I feel like I can breath. Would I be able to be at peace still, if I soared through the air instead of stood in it?
No probably not it will feel like this morning. Like I'm suffocating again. Stepping away from the window. I glance at my desk. There's a laptop I've failed to use properly in the last two weeks. Unfinished books, a few shirts I couldn't be bothered to stuff away. But none of that is important. I yank the drawers open one by one. Sifting through them throwing the things that are useless aside.
"It's in here. I know it's in here. I- Oh found it."
An old sewing kit. There's needles, thread, safety pins, scissors, buttons everything one needs. To put something back together again. And to take something apart. I want to take myself apart. I clutch the kit to my chest. Taking a seat down on the chair. Opening up the box putting the supplies out in front of me. "W-Why am I shaking?" There's nobody to answer me. I ask nonetheless, I'm confused it's not like someone's doing this to me. I'm doing it to myself. Flipping open my laptop. I open the search engine. Hands clicking away eyes absorbing information so fast.
Easiest tool to self harm with?
Razor blade it supplies, but I don't have that. Better use the needle, it might go in deeper. Scissors seem impractical like they might hurt a lot. A safety pin seems weak. I won't use it.
How long does it take to bleed out?
If done correctly about two minutes. Before I plunge into cardiac arrest...I guess I better not mess up. Or it will take a long time.
Is it easier to bleed out in the heat or cold?
Organs function a bit better in the cold. If you cut in a warm bath. It slows your wounds from healing properly. Okay I'll cut my left side then.
My fingers type one more phrase.
Cuts on arm.
I hesitate a little before pressing the images button. Immediately my eyes are given photo after photo of severed wrist. Deep gashes in a person's thighs, forearms, words carved into their bodies. Some are even designed like hearts. I slam the computer shut.
Good to know it's easy to do.
It is not easy to do. I have already fucked this up. I'm not right handed. I've been training myself out of spite and respect to use both. The cuts are failures. They aren't straight not deep enough. Every time I cut through flesh. I ease up not adding enough pressure. There's fear, disappointment, can I not even die correctly?
And there's guilt so much guilt. Four times I've slashed myself incorrectly.
Four. Whole. Times. From one edge of my wrist to the other.
Already it burns, stings, it's uncomfortable I cry onto my arm. Adding even more pain by accident. Living is hard because I'm confused. Dying is even harder somehow.
"I-I can't do this!"
My hand shakes uncontrollably too far, fast, and it feels like too deep. The needle is most of the way inside of me. I seem to see my mother's face in front of me. She's sad very sad, I'm making her cry.
Do I really want to give up my life? When she tried her best, just to bring me into this world. She's suffering because of me. Am I really going to make it worse? Leave her all alone. Just because I can't handle too much…closeness. My hands may as well have been frozen in place. But I force them to move along with my feet.
I yank the needle out my wrist. And a gush of blood is present. Flowing what I think is too fast down it. 'I'm glad I didn't jump! I'm glad I didn't jump! This was a terrible idea! Thank god I didn't jump!' My feet stumble over each other. As I barrel out of the bedroom. I can hear myself hyperventilating. Nearly falling face first onto the floor. But I throw my hands out, I can catch myself. Am I dizzy? I can't tell over my head and heart pounding. My left hand has too much blood on it. Three of my fingernails have blood underneath them. Like a victim being buried alive. I scream as loud as possible. With what feels like the last breath I have in my body. "Daddy! Daddy!" But there was no sense in calling. I was already at his door. It swung open and for the second time in my life. I see worry etched onto his face. As I'm pulled inside his office.
"What have you done?!" The moment his hands are on me. My whole body seems to power down. I'm outside of my own body. He is controlling me, and this is okay. My eyes are glossy following his movements. A first aid kit, cleaning supplies, gauze, can he fix me still? I hope that he can. I want to live. "I thought I wanted to die but, then I thought about mom! And then I t-think about my siblings! The things they do t-to me! I hate it! I don't like them! B-But I love them!"
His eyes don't look as worried. When my wrist is all cleaned off. He sees it...all of my mistakes. All of my stupid struggles, that I couldn't even go through with. Shame is starting to set in over fear itself. I dislike being viewed this way by him. Before he can even wrap my arm properly. He's putting pressure on it. He cares, he's fixing me. I know I don't deserve it. Maybe I should die? I take a step away from him, twisting my body in the process. That's enough I don't want this anymore.
"Shouto calm down stop moving. You're making the bleeding worse. Take a deep breath. I'm trying to help you." I know that you are. I do as he says. Taking a breath that turned into a yell. Because for some reason I'm not done. My mouth moves faster than my feet did coming up the hall. Why do I still have more to say? I should give it a rest.
"Ahh! A-And then I think a-about you! The things y-you do to me! I like it! Why do I like it?! I shouldn't like it! It's wrong a sin! I'm going to break! Y-You keep breaking me a…and it feels good! I-If I die! I'm just going to go to hell anyway! What's the point?!" I yank my arm away. Or at least I try to on my unsteady feet. But he holds me in place. The bandage is wrapped around tighter and tighter. Father is undeterred by whatever has taken a hold of me. He's in charge of me now and forever, this is fine. I'm being moved and suddenly his lips are slotted against mine. It keeps me quiet for a second. For a while all I feel is his tongue against mine.
I'm kissing back laving my tongue across his. But I'm overpowered incredibly so. It feels like I'm melting. And for just one second I feel okay again. Relaxed like when I stood in front of the window. He's taking me away, we're at his desk. Then I'm pulled into his lap. Held gently for a change, my back is being pat. Legs slung over sideways across him. Before I eventually turn around. It's hard I can't face him. My now bandaged arm hangs limply at my side. My thoughts have jumbled the window to my sanity. Covering it in a layer of condensation. Now it's all being wiped away. I'm alive and he saved me. I do not trust my own thoughts. But my body brought me here through all my delirium.
Why?
Because as strange as it is.
My heart trust him, the only remaining parent I have contact with.
I don't know what I expected but it wasn't this.
I cry.
And I cry some more.
These tears don't seem like they'll end anytime soon. I just listen to his voice in my ear.
"You're over thinking a lot of things. This is just what our family does. That's how we express our love towards each other. We're special you know that. Especially you, you're even more special. So instead of going off the deep end. How about you simplify things? Tell me what you want. Speak up don't hold your thoughts inside. Even if they don't make sense to you say them. I'll do my best to understand you."
For a moment I bite my lip. I don't know what to believe. Because is it really that easy?
It's not bad, because this is what our family does. It's normal for us. I'm panicking over nothing. I'm not going to hell this is fine. I lean into his touch. Head thrown back against his chest. Exhaling in relief I didn't want that kind of afterlife.
…..
I didn't want to lose him either though.
"Please…make him stop touching my things. And make her stop touching mom's. I don't want her to touch me anymore. I just want you daddy. But I-I want to sleep I'm tired."
"Fine that's all you had to say. I'll tell them to leave you alone. And I won't visit you at night."
His hand is underneath my chin. I'm forced to turn my head to look up at him. Even the tear tracks have dried on my cheeks. As I feel the heat rise to my face. I can't help but flush. Eye contact between us always feels...intimate.
"But Shouto if you want to keep doing this. You need to come to me. Because otherwise I will come to your room." It's a simple solution. Everything was painstakingly simple. I had gone and thrown gasoline on myself. When all I had to do, was open my mouth. I nod my head. I can feel myself smiling, I can't remember the last time I've done that.
"Okay, I'll come find you."
Every day from now on, again and again because it's normal. This is what we do...right?
