My mother's scream.

From just down the hall.

Oh my god, it was so loud.

I flinch, shrinking back under my bed. I pray to whatever deity is out there. Please, just let this be some dream. Some dream triggered by a scary movie I wasn't supposed to watch. Make it all go away.

The heavy thud of footsteps echoes throughout the house, and I know he's coming. He's coming to kill me like he did my father and brother. And now my mother.

"Where are you?!" he booms, and I can feel it rattling the floorboards.

My entire body is alive. Buzzing with sensation. The metallic tang of blood is so thick in the air I can almost taste it, and my arm, dear god, my arm looks as if it's been mauled. The cut across my face is rubbed raw, stinging from the salt of fresh tears. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay silent. If he knows exactly where I am, it's all over.

All I have is my quirk, but I barely had the strength to light a damn candle.

Please, please.

Let me live, and I'll do anything.

I beg to any higher power that can hear me.

Give me another chance, and I'll prove to you I can do something worth saving.

My bedroom door slams open, and it sounds like it's about to come off its hinges.

"I know you're in here" he snarls, flinging open my closet. I hear rustling. He's searching, and it's only a matter of time before he finds me.

He huffs, turning away. I can see his feet, heavy boots tracking crimson streaks across the white rug. I want to run, but my entire being feels frozen. I'm unable to move, and I couldn't feel more helpless than I do right now.

I want to bolt, to run downstairs and out the door. I want to run, to find someone that can help me. Save me. I need to take the chance.

I either die hiding or die fighting.

His feet tread farther away from my exit, nearing my nightstand. He rummages in the drawer, and I brace myself for whatever is about to happen.

Three…

He turns away, looking behind the chair in the corner.

Two…

I can hear him grumbling to himself, but I can't make out what he's saying.

One.

I move, rolling out from under my bed and standing to my feet. He's facing away from me, and I take my shot. I don't stop. I keep going. My body shouts at me, telling me to stop. But I can't.

I hear him bellow behind me, and I scramble down the stairs. Red stains dot the walls, and I do everything I can to hold down the contents of my stomach.

Dammit.

I have to get out.

I keep going. My muscles ache, my throat is dry. Why is my front door so far away? It seems like miles, not meters.

Something snags my hair and I yelp, tumbling to the floor. A hand grips my upper arm, the fingers pressing into my flesh.

"Let go!"

His breath is rancid as it fans over me.

"Get off me!" I cry, struggling as I'm pulled across the hardwood by my ponytail. Everything hurts. I almost want to give up and succumb, but I know I won't do that.

"I'll burn you! Get off me!" I say again, earning a slap to my face. A whimper falls from my mouth, lost amongst the chaos.

"Shut the fuck up. I have a job to do and some little girl isn't going to get in my way."

I reach behind me, flailing blinding for any of his skin. Heat rises in my stomach, nearly overpowering everything else. It burns, it feels like it's scorching my insides.

If I can just burn him enough to make him let go, I can get to the door. I just need to touch him. We're still moving away from my only hope at escape. My fingers find his wrist, and I tighten my hold on him.

Burn him.

Just a little bit.

A rush of pressure washes through me, and I feel the telltale crackle of flames at my fingertips. But it doesn't stop at a simple matchstick. It bursts from my palms like an undirected cannon, scalding him. He jumps back, confusion heavy in his eyes.

What was that?

I had never done that before.

He reaches for me again, and this time, I channel everything I can into it. My anger, my fear, my sadness, my guilt. All of it. it licks at the ceiling, and all of a sudden all I can see is fire.

Everywhere. It dances across the floor, climbing the curtains and marking the walls.

Did I do that?

When had I gotten that strong?

I can see him through the haze of smoke, and it fills my lungs, nearly choking me. I cough, bringing my sleeve to cover my mouth and nose. He shakes his head, turning away from me. I'm brought to my knees, and I can barely move.

It's filling the room, and I can barely make out an outline growing smaller, and suddenly, everything goes dark.

I had woken nearly a week later. And I was the sole survivor of the Hisoka family. My memories were slow to filter back. A trauma response, they said. And I didn't know until days later that my family had died.

I had cried, of course. And then there was the overwhelming guilt. Why had I been the only one to live? Wasn't I supposed to die? And then there was the feeling of being left behind. I had sobbed for my mother, craving her hugs, and her kisses, and her smell. And every time, the knowledge she was gone, along with my father and brother, would crush me.

There had been an argument over who would take me, and in the end, my aunt was the one to do it. And she had been patient with me. She had driven me to counseling sessions, taken me to physical therapy, and she had held me when the world seemed like it was going to cave in on itself. It had taken months for me to say anything beyond a choked cry that didn't have anything to do with the conversation at hand. And it took even longer for me to laugh and smile, or even feel like I could.

And my power grew stronger and wilder. After learning exactly how powerful I was, I became unsure. I couldn't control it, and it resides in my body. I resented it even though it had been the thing that saved my life. I began wearing gloves everywhere and locking myself in my room when my emotions took over. I hated having the capability to kill. And that was because if I ever ran into the person that had done this. The person who made my life hell, I would do the same thing to them they did to my family. But I would make it worse tenfold. I would scorch them. Burn them. Scald them. I would make sure they understood that Rina Hisoka was a force to be reckoned with.

And I knew deep, deep down that I wanted one thing and one thing only.

I wanted them to suffer.

Just like I did.

I don't know how long I've been awake. It feels like minutes, but when I roll over to stare out the window I can see the sun cresting over the horizon. Pink and orange begin to paint the room and I can feel my cat, Mochi, beginning to stir at my feet. But I still don't make the move to get up, even though I know I should. I knew I should get up and do something, but I didn't want to. I know I should go to the gym after skipping for three days. Or get up and go to the store to get groceries so Noka doesn't have to.

The nightmares had gotten better. Fewer and further between, but that meant I wasn't ready for them. It meant that I wasn't prepared to hear all of those sounds and smell all of the smells that took me back to that night. The worst night of my life. I had woken up in a cold sweat, my breath coming in short gasps and a dull ache forming at my temples. And for a few moments, I was disoriented, terrified that he would come back for me and kill me. But then came the worst part.

The after. An empty feeling when I remembered just how alone I truly was. When I remembered that no matter how much I wanted it, my family was gone. My mother, with her kind smile and soft eyes, was gone. My dad, with his stubbornness and humor, was gone. And my brother. His future, his laugh, his potential. That was all gone too.

And a piece of me had gone with them. A part of me I would never give back. And it hurt all the more when I considered that I would do everything for the rest of my life without them. I wouldn't be able to tell my mom about my first kiss, or my first boyfriend. I couldn't tell my dad how well I was doing with training. That my quirk rivaled his in intensity and scale. And I couldn't protect my brother. Or share my wisdom with him.

I had learned to drive, fight, love.

And simply exist.

All without them.

And I hated it.