𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝟎𝟏

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TW FOR BRUISES AND BRIEF MENTION OF BLOOD/CUTS
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[Y/n] was fuming, absolutely pissed and desperately grasping at the edges of his hope.

"It's bound to happen." His mother had said.

Ripping open his closet door and digging around for a backpack as tears formed in his eyes. Bound to happen? Was this what him surviving was going to lead to? A life of repeated assault?

"You're weak. You deserve it."

Fumbling with the sipper he searched all the pockets before grabbing his wallet and throwing it onto his desk. He wasn't weak. He's been training for the entrance exam taking place next year since he was 11. He's been working on his agility and has been doing parkour in his free time, working himself to the bone for this. He's tried too hard to be called weak.

"It's just what happens to people like you, it'll always be."

A silent sob rumbled in his throat. People like him?
People like him? What, other useless people? Others that have had labels slapped on them and viewed as nothing more?

What'll always happen? Is this what people deemed as less will be forced to live through forever? Is this all they're going to know until they all keel over and die?

The [Blonde/Raven Etc]'s gasped, tears clouding his vision. Bringing up his arm he wiped his eyes. They needed to bandage his wounds first, before the worst of them got infected and made him ill. He could make rash decisions later, with a clearer head and rational thoughts. Right now they needed to calm down and bandage himself.

He's fine. His mother hadn't torn the false reality he'd be holding onto, while reading of all things, because she didn't care. He'll be okay, it has to be.

Sitting down onto his bed and hugging an old stuffed rabbit. He ran through a breathing exercise. - "Blowing out the candles" His daycare teacher had called it.- Alright, this is okay. His first aid kit and pain meds were in his closet, in one of his drawers, all he had to do was get up and grab it and clean himself up. One foot in front of the other, right then left, right, left, right, left.

The closet was already open (From his earlier breakdown). Shakily opening the top drawer he grabbed the first aid kit and an extra roll of bandages, before sitting down on the floor.
Exhaling he took off his uniform blazer, poking a yellowing bruise before wincing and sniffing through his nose. Clicking open up the kit and grabbing the bruise cream, slowly applying it and twisting the cap on. [Y/n] didn't bother bandaging the bruises, wanting to save as many supplies as possible for if they did commit to their emotional breakdown fueled idea. His hands had slowed their shaking, but they still struggled to open the cap to an oil bottle. Dripping a drop onto his finger he smeared it onto the scabs, the goal of this being to reduce the scarring.

It'll be okay...

Packing up the kit and standing, opening the drawer before sighing and stumbling to his bed and placing it by his bag. His posture worsing as he rubbed his eyes and cheeks, scrubbing off tear-tracks. Returning to his closet and grabbing pajamas. Pulling a soft shirt over his head and slipping his arms through, before tugging the pants on.

It'll be okay.

Plopping back onto his bed again, he takes the first aid kit and bandages before placing it in. He knows he's gonna need more bags if he commits, they can dig around the house for more tomorrow.

It'll be okay, he'll make it okay.

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Not beta read, point anything out and I'll fix it!
Short chapter to kick everything off!

Thanks for reading, it makes my day <3/p

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