Numb ---- Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugo----[BOOK 1]

15 - Abuse

Bakugo's POV:

I woke up to the sun shining through my window, rubbing my eyes as they gradually adjusted to the light. I pulled the blanket off of me and sat up.

Blanket?

But I gave my blanket to Todoroki

He must've given it back at some point

I looked around.

Where is he anyways?

I got dressed, since my clothes were still stained with tears, and left my dorm.

I should probably go check on him

He definitely was not in a good place last night

And we still have to talk about the pills

Shit the pills

I reached into my pocket, but they weren't there.

Damn

I started walking faster.

Hopefully he's not high when I get there

Of course if he really does use them daily, it's probably what keeps him at ease. So I probably won't be able to tell the difference.

I arrived at his door, gently knocking so I didn't startle him.

No response.

So I knocked again.

No response.

"Tch, idiot."

I opened the door, only to find that he wasn't there.

He must be in the common area

No

The gym

I walked inside, closing the door behind me. I walked over to the drawer where I had found the pills, and sure enough they had been moved. I closed it, and looked around.

Where would he hide them?

I walked over to his desk, rummaging through the various drawers there. I pulled out a stack of papers and glanced over them.

Sketches

Dark ones

There was one of someone's wrist, sliced open and bleeding into the cracks of the tiles in the background, a razor blade laying beside them. Another of someone falling a great length, smiling at the ground. Another of someone laying down on train tracks, also smiling as the train neared.

I flipped through them, seeing various horrific images time and time again.

Despite the fact that they're sad and gory, these are actually pretty damn good

I was nearing the end of the stack, and was about to set them down. But one caught my eye.

A drawing of a woman with white hair and grey eyes, smiling.

I flipped past it to reveal another drawing. The same woman. Only this time she wasn't smiling. She was sobbing, with a look in her eyes that screamed for help.

The next drawing was a horrifying scene. The same woman, holding a kettle.

Pouring the boiling water in the face of a little boy.

Over his eye.

A boy with red and white hair.

Both of them sobbing.