Not a Monster (Dabi x Reader)*COMPLETED*

Chapter 2 ⚠️

It was weird getting to go home. Just a couple days after my 7th birthday, I was told I had enough control to not pose any serious risk to anyone around me. As long as I stayed aware of those risks.
Apparently it activating the way it did those years ago was a fluke of sudden manifestation.
Since then I've learned that there has to be skin to skin contact and the intent to activate it. It had its drawbacks though. I can't use it for very long and not on many people at once. Overuse can cause extreme exhaustion and even quirk backfire which would end with vivid nightmares as I slept. I lost a lot of sleep when control training made me to overuse it. But So as long as I don't will it, things should be safe.
More shocking was that it was a variation of my dad's , but the contrast between the two was pretty intense. His caused wonderful dreams that healed the body while you slept, mine caused insanity inducing waking nightmares. Crazy right?
The doctors at the quirk facility told me to keep things a secret from others. Teachers and anyone important would already know what they needed to know, but it getting around to the public could cause problems for my mom and I. So I kept the secret close.

Momma had gone through a pretty drastic change during the last few years. She wasn't the bubbly giggly woman I knew her as. Her ears and tail weren't as expressive as they used to be. And she always looked tired.
She was still a great mother though. She also got therapy. Looking back, I could have easily become an orphan had she not gotten help. Her and my dad were obvious soulmates. Their worlds revolved around each other. They completed each other. It was so nice to watch them dance in the kitchen while Momma cooked. Her H/C hair swishing around as they both laughed and smiled together.
It was all gone now. I honestly still have no idea how she could even look at me after what I'd done. Even if it wasn't on purpose, whatever my dad saw drove him to end his own life. Momma still loved me though. She wasn't the same, but neither was I. And she made sure I knew she didn't blame me.

Things are different, but I'm really happy she's still here...

I was homeschooled till the beginning of high school so we could adjust to being home again and so I could concentrate on keeping my training and therapy up. I had asked her a while after I turned 12 to go back to regular school, and she said yes. She just wanted me to go ahead and finish out middle school. Since transferring so far in would be stressful for me.

I wore gloves around the house just to be safe. I'd be lying if I said wasn't scared of not being in such a controlled space anymore.
Everything had left me with anxiety and depression, but that's what therapy is for. I still saw my therapist every couple weeks.

My momma put me into MMA classes since the quirk I got from her boosted my physical abilities. My therapist told her it would be a good coping mechanism and emotional outlet.
And it ended up being that I was REALLY good at at it.
I was fast, my reflexes are good, I'm a quick thinker, and I've got energy and stamina for days.
I quickly developed my own style around that. Concentrating on speed, precision and stamina. When I was old enough, they started giving me weapons even.

Double daggers was my go to. I was confident and happy in my abilities...

My first day of high school was finally here. First day of public school in a very long time. I wasn't worried about my grades, I kept a pretty high average. But I'm nervous to be around so many people.
My excitement was equal to the anxiety though. I was so ready to start living a normal life again, Make friends, all that stuff.

I stood in the mirror, scrutinizing myself. I was in good shape for someone who wasn't interested in being a hero. I wanted to be normal. That wasn't the problem though.
The problem was the scars. I had developed a problem with self harm, it started after I got home. Maybe it was being back at home, even though we had moved to a new house in the same city. Maybe it was guilt. I really don't know why I did it that first time. I just remember feeling so numb, I needed to make sure I was still alive.
I noticed pretty quickly that it helped slow the rushing and jumbled thoughts of shame and guilt that seemed to flare randomly. I managed to stop the year prior, but the damage was already done.
My upper arms, shoulders, ribs and sides, my thighs, my stomach, all littered with scars. Some small, some large. Cuts, burns, scratches, a few had even turned into keloids. Those are large, raised, and impossible to miss. But they were starting to lighten and fade. It would take a while, but I knew eventually they wouldn't be as noticeable as they are now.
My uniform hid it all just fine though. I was careful to keep them out of sight. Mom was always either at work or in her room doing whatever it is she does. So things went unnoticed.
I gave myself one last look, tucking a stray H/C hair behind my ear and slipping my gloves on before grabbing my bag and padding down the stairs to the kitchen. Mom wasn't here so I just made a simple bowl of cereal.

Remembering to lock up before heading passed the gate of my house and down the street. I had plenty of time to get to school, so I decided to take a slow pace. I had to mentally prepare myself.
The nerves of being back in school had my heart beating hard in my chest. It's just been me and mom for so long, what if I've forgotten how to act like a regular person?

I take a deep breath and release it before sliding the door of the classroom open. All attention snaps to me, luckily there were only a couple people in here since it's still a little early.
My E/C eyes suddenly lock with a pair of familiar crimson orbs.

"HAAAH?! What the hell?!!" The ash blonde boy I knew as Kacchan shouted, a mask of anger covering his face.

Well he hasn't changed much...