The walk home was quiet, like usual, but this time I forgot to wipe the blood off my hands.
Being a Nurse at the highest-rated hospital, I have to stay clean, but I forgot as I was rushing to get out of that shit hole.
Besides, while looking down at my hands as I walked through the dimly lit alleyways, my ego started to enjoy it.
I don't kill people, I heal them. It's my quirk, and nothing about my quirk can deliver pain.
So walking around like I just murdered a person will make people think I am someone whom I am not. Someone who is undesirable. Someone to stay away from. Though deep down I crave a closeness with someone, I have only been betrayed. The devil comes in the form of a friend, with a weapon of listening ears and deception.
My blood boils with memories of the betrayal from the one I trusted most. With my deepest secrets, and now I live in agony while they use my trust against me. My biggest regret was becoming close to someone.
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It's about a 35-minute walk home if I don't get interrupted. This is the part of the city where men can do just about anything, where nightmares become a walking reality, where I feel life run through my body.
There are never any paroles around here keeping people safe. So every day I see new victims come into the hospital just from walking around here. The city has given up on any governance in this area, which has allowed the crazy to roam free.
Those poor souls come in with horrible stories about what these people did to them so I've started walking this way to get rid of them myself. I am no hero, just a broken girl with a bloodthirsty appetite for vengeance.
Of course, my lovely quirk is just for the good of all and is not intended for pain, but that's not what the voices tell me.
{The voices let out a deep laugh, which strings a smile across my face}
They've been with me before my healing quirk manifested, and god damn do they not only feed my ego but the emptiness inside me that should be occupied by loneliness.
Obviously, no one else can hear them, just me. Sometimes that fucker gets so loud, other times they're brutally silent.
I'm not crazy.
It's just my ego talking. Sustained by power, though only because I live in fear.
I walk these anarchy alleyways because I am determined to have these men change their minds about feasting on the weak. Vengeance.
The clothes I wear don't matter to get their heads turned in my direction, just showing the slightest vulnerability will commend them to me. God, it's just too easy with desperate men. Still, I am no different than the rest of the psychos in the alleys. I seek vengeance for it feeds me power that I am too, very desperate for.
Last week was too easy, I overestimated them so much. Four different men in one week, all looking for the same thing. Power. Praying on weak bodies feeds the ego. I do the same but give myself justice by calling it vengeance.
All I gave them were bloody faces no one would want to look at. And tonight it will all be the same.
{The voices interrupt my devilish thought. "Footsteps behind you coming closer. Weaponless."}
My smile creeps across my face as I drop my keys. I bend down to pick it up, carefully listening.
"Is someone following me? Oh please... I... I'm armed!" I shout out, faking a stutter. Playing weak.
I stand and look behind me and only see the light from the street lamps glowing down into the empty alleyway. I hear the footsteps coming from the other end of the alleyway.
I look up to see a medium size man. He doesn't seem to be holding any weapons, but that doesn't mean he's quirkless.
"Hello darling, I heard you yell and thought you might need some assistance." the man said walking up to me.
{"It's him. He alone" My voices tell me.}
"I... ugh... There was someone following me... from that way." I turn around, pointing in the other direction while reaching down to the knife strapped on my thigh.
He's silent now, and I keep still, instead, I wait until he's closer, listening for his breathing. The voices will know.
{"Turn left. Slice shoulder height," said my voices"}
On cue, I turned and sliced my blade across his wrist as he was reaching up for my neck. I give him another good slice to his chest making him scream out in pain. With the back of my wrist, I wipe a smile on my face from feeling the warmth of his blood now on my cheeks.
He falls to the wall beside us while grabbing onto his bloody chest. Oh, it's such a good site to see. I can feel my face start to light up, and my energy blossom as the power feeds my ego.
My cocky attitude is paired with the energy of a circus freak. Bouncing on my toes from the excitement and waving around my knife like a schooler teacher trying to get her class to pay attention.
"Oh boy!" say as I begin to laugh, "You dirty man are you really surprised? You really thought you were just gonna get off tonight that easy?"
I pout for him before releasing another smile. "Oh, it's just too easy with you horny assholes," I say skipping and enjoying my new positive attitude about life.
"Is this what falling in love feels like Tula, god it's addictive," I tell the voice inside my head.
I feel them smile. I look up to them like they are my guardians, I do not disappoint them, for I fear my companions always leave me.
{"Focus now Y/N, do not succumb to passion yet. "They tell me}
"You fucking bitch." I hear the mass on the floor struggle to say.
Lowering myself to his level, I say, "You lucky I'm not going to kill you." switching to a seriousness that momentarily paralyzes his breathing.
no longer thriving in the man's pain, I turn to continue on with my night, waiting for my next lust-driven victim. Until I hear a dragging metal sound. As I turn around turn around, my arms get forced back against the wall.
My arms become trapped above me, I dangle inches above the ground. I feel shame as I learn that my wrists are trapped by a piece of metal piping buried deep into the concrete wall behind me.
In shock I can't hide behind a mask I frantically look to see who has beaten me, while still not believing the winner of my game is the disgusting stigma lying incompetently on the ground.
He lies there slyly with one arm outstretched toward me, showcasing his quirk that he had so stupidly hidden from me until now. Heat swells to my face as my shame turns to rage.
"Hah, quirkless bitch, try and act cocky now!" He says slowly picking himself off the ground.
Why are the voices silent now of all times? It would have been nice to know that he was going to pull that shit. In all my life there has only been one experience of my voices betraying me. While they are silent, my head begins pounding with screams. My own frantic thoughts become the only thing I hear, loud absurdities running rampant and not able to grasp onto anything, I begin to panic in my own loneliness.
"Now I want to have fun with you," he says shakily standing up and stalking up to me.
Being alone with my own thoughts paralyzes me. The betrayal of the voices in my head destroys me. All I want is to run and get away from the overwhelming emptiness that is my thoughts. The loneliness is vast, and I am becoming lost in my own mind.
Like they never left, I feel them take over my thoughts, protecting me from my own emptiness.
{"Protect yourself." They encompass my head.}
With my head finally clear, I swing my leg up and kick his jaw, causing him to stumble back into the wall across from me. I know what to do now, no longer alone and fearful.
I look back at him clenching my jaw, I can feel my face get hot with anger at my recent panic and how easily this embarrassment of a person has affected me.
"You caused me to do this to you, women just like you have no idea what it's like for guys like me. No one will feel bad for rape victims like you." He says coming to stand in front of me.
I laugh, "Do you really think I pity men like you? Sex Depraved men who blame women for their pathetic sex lives. Well, maybe that's because the only thing that wants to touch you're Napoleon cock is your own right hand." I say spitting in his face.
From a distance, I hear laughing, which alarms me. The voices have failed me again, by not providing me a warning of this new person. However this time, I am able to feel them. I don't entirely feel alone this time, so I stay composed.
My capturer and I look down the alley in the direction of the dark laughter and see a tall and slim figure.
As the figure walks under a street lamp, I can start to see him better, he's young but can't be younger than me, and he also has massive scarring on both his face and arms. I stay calm by pretending my own thoughts are my voices.
"Keep walking, buddy, I'm not sharing." Says the incel, but he continues stalking towards us.
"Maybe I want this one, to myself." The scarred man says, becoming territorial with me.
They stalk each other like animals, completely losing themselves in ballistic control of lust. I only become more annoyed seeing men turned into brainless animals over the objectification of women. "Can we hurry this up, the intimation act is pointless."
Of course, he does exactly what I was expecting and throws a piece of metal tubing at the scarred man trapping him to the opposite wall by his waste.
A deep laugh escapes me in frustration as the pointless interruption becomes trapped. "Awe, I was really starting to enjoy your territory piss battle. Although my silly hero disappointed me all too quickly." My frustrations come out as sarcasm.
The incel laughs as my sarcasm goes right over the dummy's head. While the idiot laughs, I watch smoke escape from the scarred man's fingers. He wraps his hands around the metal, and more smoke escapes between his fingers.
It seems this one isn't as dull as Dummy here, who has no idea what is happening behind him. The scarred man has some heat quirk and is melting the metal. His territory show wasn't all for nothing. Still, if I am to escape dummy, I will still have to deal with the other one after.
"Come on, pretty, let's have some fun." While grabbing my chin and pulling it towards his face.
Dummy is close and now I can't see what the scarred man is doing. Knowing that if I kill him, I will remain stuck, only I will have to deal with the scarred man instead who shows to be more powerful.
The voices have stopped all communication and the feeling of them is gone.
He reaches under my clothes, "This is why men are at the top of patriarchy."
It's not the assault that gets me but his misogynistic attitude that put a knife into his chest. His lifeless body falls to the floor. blood pores out of him.
"Sad, I think he died a virgin." The scared man says, kicking over his body.
He then torches the body. I feel the heat of the flames as his body becomes crisp ash. The smell of burning flesh surrounds me, nearly causing me to vomit. I cover my nose with the sweet smell of life that my quirk creates.
After the flame burns out, he looks towards me and says, "A sweet girl like you shouldn't get caught for murder. Don't you have a reputation to keep?"
He's right. I've never killed a person before nor have I been put into a situation where I had no choice. The voices protect me from having no other choice. from making a choice. so I usually leave unharmed. Once again my own voices betrayed me.
I hide the emotions running through me and maintain my usual self. I let my ego take over, "Hmph, do you want to take a turn at me?" inferring to the ashes between us.
"I usually won't say no to a woman who's offering herself to me, but I don't think that's what you mean. I just want to do my part. Let me show you how much of a heroine I can be to a helpless woman." Referring to the metal I'm stuck under.
Of course, I don't need help from anyone. Who does he think he is? My ego says keep walking, but what would Tula say? The voices? Desperation rises in me as I struggle to make my own choice of trust. He must think I am weak, I look away from his prying eyes. Breathing becomes harder, but thinking is worse. It cripples me as the silence grows into a vicious scream in my mind.
while my mind self-destructs my image stays composed, I look up at the man with only a telling of rage in my eyes. As calmly as I can manage to regain control, I beg.
"Oh please, good samaritan, please help me." I pout, without showing any sincerity.
Hearing my sarcasm only brings a smirk to his face. Nothing sincere from him, no only deception. We are playing the same game. Games only mean someone loses, and I will not suffer a loss, as a master of my own game.
"That's what I like to hear, little mouse" his nickname he has given me only antagonizes me to play along more.
For the first time, I can actually get a good look at him. A scar is a weakness, someone who has and is suffering is a perfect target in my game. His scars go along his jaw line up to his ears and under his eyes, with Bad stitch work, possibly done by himself, not a doctor. New and old, consistent pain, now this game we are playing gets even.
He grabs my chin, pulling my eyes away from his scars. His hands are still very hot from using his quirk, and I can smell burning flesh again, although I know it's not coming from the once-breathing ashes.
A kink in my neck forms as he tilts my chin up to his tall figure, inches from his scarred face. Before he makes the next move, I catch him off guard with my first manipulation tactic.
"I can fix them." I whisper, playing into what I believe are his desires, what he hungers for, "Relief from the pain. Isn't that what you want?"
He gives off an initial look of shock, which tells me he believes my sincerity, but he quickly reverts back, questioning my helpfulness.
"They don't scare you?" Ignoring my help, he reverts to intimidation, furrowing his brows with a smirk, insinuating his first thought of me as weak.
"No, but I am curious about how." I pull my chin away, preparing for his reaction, "Likely, some unfortunate childhood trauma... But don't tell me. Sorry, I'm sure it's a long pathetic story, but I don't have the time." I smirk with innocence playing into his character.
Telling by the growing smirk and affection in his eyes, I have successfully played his persona, gaining his trust. Calming my head, without the voices.
"Darling, you won't be able to fix me, I will destroy you, and I don't want to hurt a pretty face like yours," he says, stretching over me, easily reaching up to where I dangle from.
This deeply annoys me, seeing as he is not so easily swayed by my words. With his body, he commands authority over me, a heat rises in my stomach. Our long game of dominance turns into a crippling flirtatious banter. A game I am losing, though my mind seems to enjoy it, for this is the quietest it has been all night.
"You get me out then we will see if your doubts are true," I suggest watching his face closely for any notice of betrayal of the trade we are making.
He nods while gripping the metal piping on my wrists. I daggle inches from the ground, making me level to his face.
"This will hurt and probably leave burn scars. Are you sure you want to do this? You could always call a hero to come get you free." He says, smirking while simultaneously inferring his enjoyment of my pain.
"Go ahead, try and hurt me, I might enjoy this too." I encourage him, through worrying eyes.
He smiles and lets out a breathy laugh into my ear the hot air of his laugh sends tingles down my neck. I raise my guard up, preparing for the heat of him. Without help from the voices, I focus on my breathing, it comes easily. breathing manually is something I could never achieve without the voice's help, but I gain focus through listening to the deep breaths in my ear as he heats up my body.
He stares into my eyes, not looking away, I can't tell what persona he is showing now, but I am no longer in a battle of dominance with him. My wrists quickly start to burn, and I can't help but bite my cheek. He doesn't look away, eyebrows furrowing for what I'm sure is now just a waiting game for him. Waiting for the moment when I lose and give in to his pain and success. still, I continue Calculating my breaths to the rhythm of his. our breaths coming out simultaneously, calm my head entirely. I close my eyes, no longer able to continue on through the pain, but still not allowing a single tear to escape for I know he is right there, still watching.
The pain is hot, although I start feeling cold, and sick. I become fearful of opening my eyes, that everything might be black, but more so that tears will be uncontrollable after that point. I feel myself slipping, whether from dangling or from loss of consciousness.
I am no longer able to tell, to feel my body when I drop, slowly getting my feeling back and opening my eyes to see we are both kneeling and feeling a strong arm holding my torso up.
quickly I adjust to my body weight to sit myself up straight. I grab one burned wrist with my other hand allowing the glow to take over. A wave of relief washes over me, and my body reacts with a shutter. I let out a sigh of release as I switch hands, now focusing on the other wrist.
"So you have a healing quirk." He eyes my hand and wrist with surprise and awe.
Hearing his presence makes me realize he is still gripping my waist, still kneeling very close. My breathing still uncontrollably insink with his, like a comfort my body doesn't want to forget. I unknowingly am seeking comfort with this man from the loss of my voice.
I quickly stand and step away, creating a space between us. Allowing myself to feel the cool air of the night again, though I can still smell burning flesh that is no longer my own. I no longer feel pain but hurt, for I am foolish to lose at my own game.
Though now I am surprised to feel only a little care of my defeat, acceptance, which feels to calm me. I remove my hand to get a good look at my newly scarred wrist.
He carefully grabs my hand though I pull back, knowing he doesn't need to touch it to see. His eyes ask why I still don't trust him, I don't, still I reluctantly let him pull my hand closer, for I fear him now, not our trust—my trust in him, that feeling deep inside me that wants to trust him.
we compare our matching scars, identical scars resulting from his quirk. Mine formed by the burn of his flame, his formed from the burn inside him. His weakness is his biggest strength. Identifying a person's vulnerabilities, and weaknesses makes manipulating them easier. I will always have the upper hand with my opponents when I learn of what makes them weak. Though knowing this comes easier when I have the voices around to tell me, they know everything about a person by getting into their head like they love to do in mine.
"You like that don't you, little mouse. Knowing my power destroys me." His admission of defeat in our stupid game doesn't excite me as much as I want it to. Winning doesn't feel like winning this time, like winning a game no one was playing except myself.
Still, I put up with the sultry facade, "I'm surprised to learn yours so easily. Usually, I have to be undressed to learn of what makes a man weak."
A contagious smile forms on his face, spreading his mischievousness to me. I perk up again as a similar smile forms on my face. Though too slow to react to his hand on my face, "You're a very erotic little mouse, the blood on your lips makes it hard to control myself."
he then wipes the blood off, with his thumb, increasing an excitement in me. I push down that tingling feeling and pull away from him, "Finally, it's your turn." I say with a terrifying excitement. "You only get to have a taste, so where shall we?"
I stand taller now, inspecting his body which is still all too intimidating. wholly from the size and structure is what tingles my body, from what I only know to be a fear response.
Still too excited to show him how I can dominate, I reach for his arm, for my patience is running out. "Well if you can't decide, then I shall."
I place my hand over his smoldering scarred hands, choosing only one to provide relief to, already, my hand is glowing white iridescent. Though I wait, looking to him for acceptance before beginning. He shows conflict and nerves, while most people do in a hospital setting, his look is different. I take it that he's never been to a doctor based on how his scars look, so a healing touch is likely strange to him.
I turn fully to face him while the nurse in me comes out to say, "You might not feel anything, or you might just feel good. It depends on how much pain you're in."
He's still staring at my glowing hand for a moment until his eyes catch mine, and at that moment, I can actually see him, like a shield has broken. He's showing an emotion I never get to see in many people, not one of fear but trust.
"Go for it."
As soon as I touch him, his whole demeanor changes; he lets out a sigh, and his body melts. Feeling his body relax brings a smile to his and my face. He lets out a breathy laugh of relief. A relief from trusting me, a playful blush rushes to my face at the realization that I didn't break his trust. I've earned someone's trust.
In a matter of a few seconds, his soldering hand is healed, while the scarring would take multiple sessions of healing. I let go of my power. He draws in a big inhale and pulls his hand closer to his face to examine.
"Better? The scars will stay, but no new ones should appear," I proudly say although it feels wrong. For my work, I do this all day. I have never felt like this, never have I enjoyed the comfort, the release I have provided someone. It is different this time. I push it down, this will only weaken me, an emotion of trust with a person results in betrayal. Heat rises to my face for my foolishness.
"I've never felt anything like that before. It... it felt better than any opiates I've tried. Or like a good nap. Little mouse, looks you're my new addiction." He playfully runs his hands through his hair, leaning against the wall for a brace of his new high.
Though he still plays, enjoying his high, I no longer feel desire. I feel disappointed, for I was hoping someone wouldn't take comfort in me. Want me only for what I give them.
"Funny, I've heard that before," I say without retorting his playfulness back. Sore thumbs, bruises, and paper cuts. I've heard it all just to come back for a sense of pleasure, not relief.
"I can see how some people might become addicted to your quirk." he pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with the flick of his fingers.
"Well, it's not an addiction of relief if there is no pain, but an addiction to pleasure. People will do anything when they are starving for sinful desires." For the pain it causes me to have this quirk, to give in to the lust of others, I am so foolish.
No longer inclined to stay and wait for the man's next craving, I turn to leave. Doubtful of my own choices, lost without the voices.