Dead Hero's Heart

Chapter 3

🛑In this chapter self harm is mentioned. If you are sensitive to this topic you are advised on skipping this chapter or just skip said scene🛑

Uraraka sat in a corner of her dorm room, legs folded to her chest. Her condition was terrible, messy hair and back circles under her eyes, with drenched clothes covering her body. The room was dark, not a single source of light present to it other than the illuminating moonlight.

She had another nightmare, not indifferent from all the other ones she had. They were always the same, she and Izuku inside that cursed building, with him throwing her out, sacrificing his own life in the process and her not being able to move her body in order to go and save him. And then, there was always the sight of his blooded body laying in front of her deformed into that sickening potition.

She was crying again, something that she had been doing continuesly for a week now not being able to get over the pain in her chest. "Why you had to die Deku" she whispered to herself as she raised her head slightly to look at her desk where many frames laid, all of them showcasing pictures of her and the friends she made in the UA.

And there he was, in every single of the pictures, looking at the camera while giving the piece sign. He had that smile on him, the same he had just seconds before the walls crumbled on top of him and crashed him with a terrifying splash. She put her hand in front of her mouth and went to her bathroom where she puked into the toilet while tears streamed from her face.

Laying to her bathroom's cold floor, not finding enough energy to stand up, she looked at the plane ceiling allowing million thoughts to pass through her mind. "Why did it had to be him? Why out of everyone, he was the one?" she cried, not caring about the noise she was making. No one mind eitherway as they had their own misery to deal with.

"I should have been dead, not you. Why did you came to save me. You shouldn't have Deku, you should have left me die. If only I was stronger, then you wouldn't have to worry about me and come to my search. I should have been quicker but I wasn't. From the beginning I was such a sour loser and I always hold you back".

Tears strimmed uncontrollably from her eyes, hitting the surface of the bathroom tiles while she sobbed, the quilt she was feeling inside of her overtaking every other emotion. "I am the reason you died and yet you asked me to fulfill your dream. How am I going to do that without you. I can't while you are not here".

She stood slowly up and looked at her idol in the mirror. That wasn't her, she could tell. She hated the way she looked, so tired, so pained. She wanted to rip her fresh off in hopes of finding her true self back. Slowly, she moved her trembling hand to a small cabinet and opened it, revealing a pair of scissors.

Taking one of them and opening it up, she raised the sleeve of her shirt revealing an arm filled with white scratches all over its surface. Touching softly the edge of the scissor's blade to her arm, she started dragging it downwards, applying a bit of pressure so a scratch would be created.

She twitched as sharp pain shot through her body but kept going in what she was doing. 'You are a killer, you deserve it' she thought and encouraged herself to continue. She made another one and another one and another one, droppets of water still in her eyes in the meantime. 'There is no meaning on continuing trying to become a hero without him' 'You are nothing more than a weak loser' 'You couldn't even protect yourself' 'He died because of you'.

Blood streamed on her arm, painting red her hand and the bathroom sink in the process as she tried to balance her emotional pain by using the physical as a strange vaccination. She could feel the stinging of the newly opened wounds but it somehow made her feel more relaxed. Turning to look at her arm and finally seeming satisfied with her work, she threw the scissor to the sink and took some bandages from her medical box and started taking care of her self infected scars.