So here is chapter 2!

Please, do me a favor and when reading this series, if you notice any mistakes in terms of pronouns and prospective (you instead of I), please let me know. I am writing these originally as reader inserts for a different website and sometimes, a few slip ups happen in translation. There's not much I can do about that. I don't spend too much time worrying about editing these, as they are more of just an outlet to let out some emotion and practice some writing, so it's bound to happen here and there.

But yeah, otherwise, have you guys seen Infinity Wars yet? I did and it wrecked me emotionally. I won't give any spoilers here and please don't leave any in the reviews, but if you wanna DM me to talk... it really just messed me up. One of my favorite characters was unfortunately a victim to this movie and now it's just hard for me to think about it. It sounds so dramatic, haha! But yeah, tis messed me up.

Anyways, back to the actual chapter, I hope you guys enjoy. This song was one that I absolutely knew I had to write for as soon as it came out, and one that actually kind of inspired me to do this whole series in the first place so yeah, please enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Boku no Hero Academia nor do I own "In My Blood" by Shawn Mendes.

Help me
It's like the walls are caving in
Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't

- "In My Blood" by Shawn Mendes

"You're not my sister."

I sat, curled up in a ball against the bathroom wall. The steam from the shower filled the room, making it harder for me to breath as his words played through my head on a continuous loop.

"You're just like him."

My hands shakily made their way into my hair, clutching until I felt the stinging pain of multiple strands being ripped out.

"Please… just leave me alone."

A sob forced its way out the back of my throat. Fortunately, the sound of the running water covered it up.

Why did he hate me so much? My own brother treated me like the very villains he was training to defeat. I didn't miss the subtle glares he gave me from time to time or the tense, dismissive shrugs he gave people when they asked about me.

But why? What did I do to him?

"You just… You look just like him. You are just like him. I can't…"

I was nothing like him.

I wanted to be mad at my brother for being so incredibly and undeniably stupid, but I couldn't find it in me to do so. If anything, I blame myself. There had to have been something that I could have done to prevent this whole mess.

But what?

What miracle could I have worked to save my mother from the years of abuse she had to endure? What act of god could I have performed to stop that incident from happening all those years ago? The incident that scarred my brother in more ways than one. The incident that tore my family apart…

I don't know. I don't know what I could have done to save my family from the inevitable tragedy that fell upon them.

My breathing became uneven and choppy. I clutched my hair harder than before, digging my fingernails into my scalp, ignoring the wet sensation against my fingers.

I don't know what to do. My twin brother— the person closest to me, the only person I really ever had on my side— hates me. I remind him of the past. The past that was filled with hatred and sorrow. The past that was filled with nothing but bad memories.

He hates me. He hates me so much.

"You are just like him. I can't…"

I couldn't breath. It felt as if I were drowning. No matter how much I gasped and choked for air, nothing would happen. A crushing weight fell upon my chest and I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.

I was spiraling into a panic as I sat, back pressed against the cold wall, my thoughts a confusing swirl of endless dismay.

I wanted to make it better. I wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. I wanted my brother back. The brother that used to be my other half. The brother that used to hold my hand at night when I had bad dreams, and sit with me until I fell asleep at night. The brother that used to look out for me and understand that I did the same.

But how? How can I fix what's so horribly broken?

'You can't,' the little voice in the back of my head stated harshly.

'You can't fix it. It's pointless. It's all pointless. What's done is done.'

I couldn't breath. My brain felt like it was on fire and my chest felt like it was about to collapse. Spots started swimming across my vision and my sight started to tunnel slowly.

I lowered myself onto my side and curled up into a ball on the hard, tile floor.

I tried to focus on anything other than my toxic thoughts— my breathing, my heartbeat, the sound of the shower pounding on the floor of the tub, anything. But nothing worked. The thoughts kept coming and coming until they eventually consumed me.

Suddenly, the spots that filled my vision spread until it was all I could see.

And then everything went black.

I sat propped up on the ledge beside my bed staring out the window blankly.

After blacking out from the anxiety attack, I woke up to my sister knocking on the bathroom door asking what was taking me so long. From there, I picked myself up off the ground and got dressed into some nightwear, wetting my hair to make the whole situation look like less than it was.

Looking out the window, took a few minutes to bask in the calmness of the low I was in. Everything was still. Everything was calm. I could finally think clearly.

Sometimes it scared me how hopeless everything felt when I had attacks like that. It was like nothing would make it better. I would just live in that moment of misery forever, and there was nothing that anybody could do to change it.

Lately I was beginning to give into that feeling more and more.

But it would be okay. I was entering a new stage of my life soon— attending school for the first time with people other than my family. My brother would be there— he had been going there for the past year after all— but it wasn't just him. I could block him out if worse came to worst. Although I hoped that this might give us an opportunity to get closer, even just a little. It wasn't likely, but there was still a chance.

But even if that didn't work out, there would still be people there to turn to. People that I can befriend and connect with.

Things will change. It will get better.

It just had to.