Red Eyes |Genji x Reader|

Prolouge

Warning: This story contains the reader experiencing trauma as well as referencing domestic abuse. Do not read if you are sensitive to this.

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(Y/n)'s eyes burned as her father handed away her keyboard at the garage sale.

"Don't waste your time dilly-dallying with that stupid instrument," her father said. "Look at how successful your sister is, do you think she fools around with pianos in her free time?"

Music was (Y/n)'s escape, but she would soon need to find another. Every time she found a new passion, her father would use it as a reason to assert his correctness and get rid of (Y/n)'s source of relief. Her sister was already in college and pressured into studying law by their dad. (Y/n) knew her sister was suffering, and silently refused to cooperate with whatever new system daddy dearest would put her into next.

"Of course not, father," (Y/n) murmured. She knew of other kids that had physically abusive parents and mentally scolded herself for being so rude to her father. The second, smaller part of her consciousness screamed at (Y/n) for being such a weakling, a pushover.

Trudging back towards the house, (Y/n) winced when her father called out once more: "Stand up straight! Men don't want ugly hunchbacks!"

That very night, (Y/n) applied for online college. She desperately wanted something to brag about to her sister, to her dad. She was accepted six weeks later.

Smiling wide, (Y/n) held out her letter of acceptance towards her father, almost shaking with excitement. But he merely glanced at her and said "I'm busy," before clicking away at his laptop.

Not wanting to push her luck, (Y/n) gently set the paper on the coffee table and tiptoed to her room. Hours later, the door burst open with her father at the entry, absolutely livid.

"You applied for medical school? What are you thinking? How will we pay for it? You aren't even smart enough to finish!"

(Y/n)'s throat closed up, but she stood her ground for once. "It's a full ride scholarship. I can do this," she insisted.

"No, you can't!" He shouted right back, and (Y/n) felt a special kind of hatred as she watched her father throw the letter into the now-lit fireplace. "Email them and say you're going elsewhere," he said dangerously, stalking away to God knows where.

That night was the first night (Y/n) disobeyed a direct order. She applied for the internship at the Overwatch headquarters in Switzerland. She was going to get the hell out of her dad's house.

And the next day, she was off. It didn't matter that she had sentenced herself to a desk job, shuffling papers, delivering coffee and listening to online courses during her free time. She had released herself from her father's tyranny.

Or so she thought.

As soon as (Y/n) stepped off the plane, an incredible sense of loneliness and fear washed over her, nearly consuming her alive. She knew that the remnants of the oppression she faced would take an arm and a leg to shake off.

On her first day on the job, she knocked a mug of milk out of someone's hands while in the infirmary. (Y/n) bit her lip so it wouldn't wobble and stuttered out an apology. "It's alright, dear," a soft voice rang out above her while she picked up the shards. (Y/n) shook so severely that she cut herself, successfully dirtying the tile floor.

"Oh no! Here, let me take care of this," the woman (Y/n) would soon know as Angela said, taking her hand and seemingly magically healing the wound.

"I-I'm so sorry," (Y/n) hiccuped, now unable to stop the tears of embarrassment from flowing.

"Nonsense, there's no use crying over spilled milk," Angela said, glancing at the mess on the floor. "Literally."

A laugh bubbled out of (Y/n)'s mouth, making the angelic woman across from her smile.

"I'm Angela, by the way," she said, handing (Y/n) a tissue. Another laugh shook (Y/n) as she took the tissue, wiping her eyes. "Are you serious? Is this a joke because you're so angelic?" She asked before she could stop herself.

Both women knew that (Y/n) would be visiting the infirmary a lot often after that day.