The Scars Underneath | Dabi x Male Reader

~•¥Chapter Five¥•~

Y/N's POV

  My spine creaks in protest when I move from my hunched position like I've grown old in just a short amount of time. I woke up not too long after I laid down, but I've been thinking of everything I might be missing at home. Or, better yet, all the obnoxious lessons I get to skip. I think I might prefer being locked in a musty bedroom, though some food would be nice. But since I've been locked in here, I have heard anything outside these walls. No yelling or cursing, no breaking glass, nothing. Honestly, if they were just going to up and leave, then what was the point of bringing me?

It's started to get hot in this bare room, probably a "punishment" after knocking the vent gate out and destroying the room, so I push my turtleneck over my head. Getting a whiff I myself tells me I desperately need a shower, and gives me an idea of how long I've been here, and start towards the bathroom. Sweat's not a good smell on anybody.

  Pulling open the cabinet doors under the sink, I find three fresh towels, waiting to be used. I take one out and start to pull off my hoodie when I remember the camera.

'Well, I guess they're getting a show,' I think I shuck off my undershirt.

  As soon as I step into the graciously warm waterfalls, all the tension leaves my body. I'm finally able to relax, be worry-free for at least twenty minutes. I put an overly generous amount of shampoo in my hand and lather it into my greasy roots.

~•¥•~

    I step out of the steamy bathroom, towel drying my hair with my turtleneck in my arms. When I look up, I jump back in surprise.

  How many times am I going to get jump-scared? Am I supposed to be counting? Is it a thing where you see how many times you can scare Y/N and whoever scared him the most wins?

  In front of what I've appropriately named "the Freedom Door" sits the single female villain, resting on her knees, holding two bowls of what appears to be ramen. It's when I see the dish that I realize I there's an emptiness in my stomach and remember that I didn't eat yesterday. She smiles up at me, hopping up from her place on the floor.

"Oh, good! You're out!" says the girl. "I've been waiting so long for us to talk!"

  I stare at her blankly, my arms still suspended in the air from drying my mane.

"Well, come on! You don't want it to get cold." She bends over and picks up one of the bowls and hands it to me. I take it hesitantly. "What? You scared of a little bowl of ramen? I didn't do anything to it, though I wouldn't put it past me," she giggles. She leans in and whispers, "I'm the reason you're getting fed."

I seriously doubt that.

She turns back around and plops onto the floor, grabbing her bowl. I sit Indian-style in front of her, picking curiously at my food. Her close proximity isn't exacting helping my hunger, either. Everything about her body language is alert, almost excited. Ready to pounce.

  I hate it.

I try to eat slowly (really just seeing if anything tastes suspicious), but as hungry as I am, I'm finished with the bowl in seconds. Even her repulsing closeness couldn't ruin the meal. My eyes dart up to see her staring at me and I clear my throat. "Thank you," I say with a nod.

She giggles once more and takes the bowl from me and sets it aside. She reaches out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Toga! Himiko Toga!"

I reach out and take her hand, but she forcefully pulls me into her chest and I crash into her.

"It's going to be so much fun having you around! I can't wait to know everything about you~" Slowly, her fingers crawl down my spine, resting on the lower half of my back.

She jumps up and snatches the bowls before I have time to react, or more realistically, knock her right in the jaw. She knocks a pattern on the door and I hear it unlock. Opening it, she turns to flash me a quick smile and walks out.

For a moment, I sit there, staring at the door. Not moving, not speaking.

After a few moments of nothing, I go back and collapse on the bed, memorizing the patterns on the ceiling. I'll have to take another shower.

~•¥•~

One day...and a half. I'm fairly sure that's how long it's been since Toga left, though my senses aren't too sharp when it comes to time. Every minute that goes by I become more and more aware of the deafening silence and the realization of never getting out of this dump. I've read plenty of authors describing helplessness or depression, but this just numb. There's no feeling of any kind involved other than boredom. I haven't even moved from my spot on the bed except to throw the mattress to the floor and lay on the bottom of the bed frame. I threw a lamp after about five hours to get some kind of reaction. No one cared.

I would've hoped that, by now, they'd come to interrogate me. I'd probably give them as much information as I could just to make something happen.

My stomach growls and, as if on cue, Toga walks in with yet another unfamiliar dish in her hands. She places it on the nightstand and sits beside me on the boxspring on the floor. Normally, I'd yell at her to get out, or at least stare at her, but I just sit there as if the strange being doesn't exist.

  After a few minutes of me just ignoring her, she speaks up. "Y/N~" she says, trying to be alluring. Her chipmunk voice makes that impossible for me. Toga stands over me and dangles her knife in front of my face. "You know, they'd probably let you out if you agreed to be my plaything. It'd be fun! Just you, me, a collection of sharp objects, and the constant pooling of your blood in my carpet!" I roll my eyes at her. She probs me in the side with the knife handle and seductively trails her hand up my leg. White-hot anger flashes inside me for a moment, fighting for control. I want her off. I don't want her ever touching me again.

  I frantically grab her wrist at the two pressure points and squeeze. She yelps, dropping her knife, and I yank her forward. Pushing her arm behind her and bringing her to her knees, I slam her head against the flimsy mattress. She's quick to apologize and say she was only trying to get my attention. Apart of me wants to hold her there and until she cries, but, if I'm being honest, that's probably why they sent her in here, To get a reaction. I release my grip.

  She stumbles a bit and backs away from me like I'm a wild animal, rubbing her sore wrist. "Stuff like that is only going to keep you in here longer, you know."

"What's the point? All you want is information, plans, or strategy. None of you have remotely tried to talk to me. Not like it would work, though. No begging or amount of torture will make me talk."

  She looks upset for a moment before giving a slight "hmph" and leaving.

  I wander back to the plate of food and nibble in it, but my appetite doesn't keep. The slight hunger pain gives me something to feel, so I push the food away and lay back between the floor and the bed frame.