Todoroki Angst One-Shots | Torment

7 | Broken [1/2] - Abused Todoroki

Warnings:
Abuse, suicide attempt(s). This story is not intended to promote or encourage these actions/behaviors.

[First-Person]
Shoto Todoroki

I found a notebook on the ground in the neighborhood. After walking around town for a while, I found a broken pencil. So, I guess this is my journal now.

I'm Shoto, and my fake last name is Haji. My actual last name is Todoroki, but my father covered that up because I'm Quirkless, and I still have to go to school. I think I'm twelve right now, but I honestly don't know. I'm told that I'm twelve, so I don't argue.

The process is always the same. Regardless of the alterations—negligible or glaring—it's still the same. It runs like clockwork, so even though it's always on time, there's still a minute—not a one-minute—difference in the time by the end of the year. Even if the clock is broken, time keeps moving. Even if the belt is broken, he keeps beating me. Even if I'm broken, the abuse keeps going.

At six in the morning, he kicks me awake. I sleep in the basement with a bare, lumpy pillow, and a small, threadbare blanket. Every morning, I'm greeted with a behemoth of a foot to my stomach. With trembling, throbbing limbs, I grimace as I stand. He kicks me down until my body kicks itself to the floor. There are times when I cry, but it isn't because I'm sad—it just hurts.

At four in the afternoon, he "trains" me. I don't think I'd call it training in the way he wants, though. He punches me, uses his Quirk on me, kicks me, pins me, and yeah. It's not fun. It hurts a lot. I'm not allowed to cry in front of him, even though he tells me I'm useless, worthless, weak, and a lot of other bad things.

At ten at night, he beats me with a belt. I hate being beaten with the belt. He strikes my ribs, my shoulders, my pelvis, and my legs the most. He never hits anywhere on my arms or hands below my shoulders, or anything above my chest. But the reason why I detest the belt is because the belt that's used is the same one that was used to beat my mother. I remember watching him beat her, but I couldn't do anything...because we both would've gotten hurt more.

I don't have any friends at school, but I'm not allowed to have any, either. I'm scared of them. I don't trust anyone. I feel like my teachers will beat me after class, even though they never have. The other students think I'm weird. I'm always being pushed around. I'm constantly given cruel comments about how I look, how I never speak, and how I'm always alone. They don't know about what goes on at home.

At home, I have two siblings currently here—Fuyumi and Natsuo. I'm glad they don't get beaten very often. If the opportunity arises, they aid me in whatever ways they can. They apply creams and liquids that scorch the skin around my wounds, but I feel like it's a waste when I'm beaten again and again. They hug me and tell me to stay strong, but I don't like giving or receiving affection, and nor do I hope I stay strong enough to keep living through this.

I don't know why I haven't decided to end it all and perish this awful life of odious misery. Maybe I'm hoping for a peaceful resolution at the end of it all. Maybe I think that life surely has a reward for enduring this excruciating agony. Maybe it's just as simple as: I don't want to die. I want to escape the pain, but I don't want to die. Yet, it would be so much easier just to die. I'm confused.

Every time he beats me, he hugs me afterwards and says it's all to make me perfect. I don't like his hugs. That's why I don't like affection. But I always end up returning the hugs. I know he hates me, so why does he hug me? If I'm so useless, how am I also doing such a good job? A good job doing what? I wish I knew.

Sunday is different from the other days of the week. He always leaves right after he beats me at four, and he never comes back until at least eight. I don't know where he goes or what he does, but Fuyumi and Natsuo take care of me. They're unbelievably kind. Fuyumi always gives me quite the variety of pills whenever I eat. I don't know what they're for—except the occasional painkiller—but I don't like taking them. Natsuo always has to give him a weekly report on my health, and if I've suffered a bit too many crippling injuries or whatever, he treats me himself sometimes. It's probably to lessen the prospect of abuse at home when I go to school.