Heroes Need Saving Too (BNHAxReader)

Chapter 1: Hatred starts young

(Please Read the intro if you haven't already done so.)

"Get back in the kitchen and keep cleaning!" my mother yelled at me as she took another swig of alcohol, then put the cigarette back in the corner of her mouth.

My mother was a fairly pretty woman. She was quite skinny and had thick, chocolate brown hair with brown eyes to match it. Her skin was a beautiful tan, but I wish that her attitude would match her beauty. Though she was drunk nearly all the time, she still kept up with her appearance by doing a little makeup here and there, along with curling her hair into huge curls nearly everyday. I wish I was able to know and understand why she would do something like drinking all the time; something that hurt the family quite a lot.

"Yes, mommy." the five year old me went back to the kitchen and out of sight from the monster that I called mom. Since father was still out and mother was drunk again, I used my quirk to teleport to my secret place. I had taken my younger sister there earlier in the day to hide her from mother since she has a tendency to be violent when she's drunk.

"Here ya go. I got you some food for you and bandages for myself." I said to Melody as I sat the bandages and baby food on the table.

I then sat the one year old in the make-shift high chair which was just a soda pop crate with leg holes and blankets. I sat down in the chair next to her and opened her food before I started to feed her. When I fed her about half of the container, I stopped and tried to clean up my arm the best I could before wrapping it with bandages.

Earlier in the day before father left, he cut my arm again to try and kill me; making it look like a suicide if I actually did die, but my quirk keeps me alive. I then look at the time and realize that dad should be getting back home soon. So, I picked up Melody and bounced her on my hip as I teleport us back to the house. Well, I guess that I wouldn't call it home, hell would be more accurate. Anyways, as soon as I climbed up the step ladder to lay Melody in her crib, I heard the front door slam open.

"Where the hell you've been? Hmm? I bet you've been with that slutty coworker of yours!" my mother yells as she slams her finished off bottle of alcohol on the floor, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.

My father hollered back, "You know damn well that I don't do that shit!" then pinched the bridge of his nose before muttering quietly under his breath, "I've had it with you bitch." He pulled out a pocket knife and lunged towards my mother.

I was too scared to stop him, so I hid in the closet and left the door open a crack, just big enough that I could see out but he couldn't see in. I watched as he stabbed my mother repeatedly in the stomach, then finished her off by slicing her throat open. He quickly walked to the nursery and went after Melody. Since I took care of her ever since she was born, I practically already had motherly instincts. Those kicked in and I went after my father.

As I watched him slaughter my mother, I generated a big kitchen knife of my own out of my right hand. When I saw him go up to the crib, Melody started to cry out of the sudden appearance. I threw the closet door open and lunged my tiny five year old body towards him with all my might. He kicked me to one side while my knife flew to the opposite side of the room. As I laid there, he turned back to Melody and with one swift move of his arm, she stopped crying. My fear turned to rage and before I knew it, I was shooting spikes out of my hands which were embedding themselves in my father. After five seconds which felt like five minutes, he finally fell to the ground and was surrounded by a pool of crimson blood.

I stared at him, the only one in my life that I wasn't all that scared of, even though he did hurt me quite a lot, was now dead. He too had just about the same features as my mother, but he was slightly bigger. He wasn't fat or overweight or anything like that, he just had more muscle. I wish that he didn't have anger issues, which didn't work well with mothers drunkenness. They would argue a lot, which took its toll on me, but I guess as long as I had shelter and food, I couldn't complain too much.

After staring at the bleeding out corps, the combined smell of blood and death started to fill my nose, causing me to run to the bathroom puking. Though for being only five, I knew what the consequences would be for killing someone. I panicked and packed what little I had in a black, brown and tan leopard print backpack before teleporting to my secret safe spot.