Running on Empty

Ghosts aren't the only things that haunt us...

"Have you ever been hurt by someone taking care of you?"

Hitoshi almost laughed at the question, in fact, he would have done, if he wasn't so nervous. This felt so different to therapy, and it wasn't just the topic. What he said here was actually going to be used in the case against his foster families and his social worker. This was going to be used in court on his behalf... and if they weren't found guilty? They'd still know what he'd said about them, what he said right here, right now.

He tightened his grip on the two hands in his to remind himself that they were there. They'd both promised to stay with him, before the trial and after it. In fact, they were both going to be there as witnesses during it.

They promised they wouldn't leave, and they would never let those people hurt him again.

"Yes."

"True. How did that happen?"

"Um, lots of different ways? Sometimes it would be punishment because I did something bad, or if they were drunk, or sometimes just because they uh, they felt like it."

"True." Tsukauchi's tone became gentler. "How did they hurt you?"

"Uh, um, sometimes they would hit me... or like, kick me and stuff?" He felt Hizashi tense beside him and leant a little more into his side to reassure him that he was okay, he was here now.

"True — have you ever been taken to the hospital because you were hurt?"

"Um, once I think. Because it was really bad and my bone was sticking out of my arm a bit." Shouta inhaled sharply on his left." I had to have emergency surgery and then I got moved to a different house."

"True... How did that happen?"

"I think I was late home."

"I mean, how did your arm get broken?"

"Oh, um, the lady I was staying with had a strength enhancing quirk and she grabbed me by my wrist really hard, it just kind of snapped."

"True." Tsukauchi grit his teeth. "Did your social worker inform the police?"

"I don't know, probably not."

"Okay, we'll look into that. Can you tell me how many families you've stayed with that hurt you?"

"Most of them."

"That's a partial truth..."

Hitoshi shifted uncomfortably, unsure what the detective meant by the question. It depended on whether he just meant physically hurt or it he was including other things too. He said as much and Tsukauchi tilted his head.

"What sort of other things?"

"Like the um, the muzzle... it— when I got a new one it fitted better, so it didn't actually hurt that much at first but... it still— I didn't like wearing it." He managed, forcing the words out when they got stuck in his throat.

"True. Have any of the families you've stayed with ever said anything that hurt your feelings?"

"Yes." Hitoshi answered, although he didn't really see the relevance of that, people say hurtful things to each other all the time.

"True, can you give me an example?"

"Um, I get called villain a lot, and like, a lot of people call me useless and worthless and stuff." Both of the hands in his tightened at that and he squeezed them back in response.

"True. Do you ever feel like that about yourself?"

"I... um— I don't, I think..." He felt his palms start to sweat and pulled his hands away, wiping them on his trousers before stuffing them back in his pockets. He dug his nails into his palms as hard as he could, focussing on the feeling to stop himself from spiralling. He saw Shouta turning his head to look at him from the corner of his eye and blurted out "pass" before he could notice.

Tsukauchi paused, "Okay, we'll move on." Hitoshi's shoulders began their descent from his ears as the panic subsided a little. "Have any of the families you've stayed with touched you in a way that made you uncomfortable?"

It took Hitoshi longer than he'd care to admit to figure out what the detective was asking, and when he did he reeled back in shock, "No! No, nothing like that! They were all too disgusted by me to want to do anything like that."

Tsukauchi winced, "All of them?"

Hitoshi froze, a sudden wave of nausea hit him and his stomach clenched, he'd tried so hard to forget. "He didn't— didn't manage to..." he whispered, shuddering. Shouta and Hizashi suddenly seemed far too close, the comfort they had been providing had disappeared and now his skin was itching with the memories of phantom hands.

"What?" Hizashi asked from his right, voice filled with horror and somewhat grief-stricken.

"He— someone tried, but he— he only touched me a bit and then he got a phone call... As soon as his quirk wore off I ran away. I lived on the streets for a while after that and when I was picked up by the— the police and given back to my social worker the guy was dead. He was involved in some gang I think, I never found out the details."

"You mentioned his quirk, what was that?" Tsukauchi inquired hesitantly.

"A paralytic," Hitoshi fought against the long since repressed memory of being unable to move, watching him get closer with that look on his face... "He said—" he felt bile rising up his throat and pushed the feeling back, forcing himself to get through this. "He said it wasn't fair that I could make people do whatever I wanted, and that he was going to give me a taste of my own medicine."

Someone called his name as he got up, but he didn't slow down, he nearly tripped over his feet in his haste.

He only just reached the bin in time.