I wander around an endless void, a mass of inky black, a solid ground beneath me, but nothing to indicate where the ground starts and the sky begins. Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel them. They stand there, rigid silhouettes, statues of a past I have yet to know. I turn to face them only to find an empty space where they once stood. I try again and again to meet their gaze but they're always one step ahead. They're always there, lurking in my periphery, just out of sight. They are a flicker in the dark, a spot of color in the void. As I strain my eyes, trying to make out what little I can see, I can feel their suffocating presence consume me. Their touch envelopes me. It's a bone-chilling cold, devoid of life. It is inhuman. It feels like death incarnate, whispers of ghosts echoing the invisible walls starting to cave in around me. I could feel the room grow smaller, even without sight. I could feel it shifting beneath me, closing in on me. It's going to trap me. It's going to kill me. There's that primitive fear that wraps itself around my spine, making my hairs stand on end, sending chills throughout my tired frame. I feel the thrill of an inevitable end drawing closer. I'm almost excited to go, to finally rest, to finally stop the endless cycle of thoughts and pain and doubt. I crave the peace of a swift end. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be anything. I especially don't want to be here, but there's still something tying me here. I feel the walls stop. The once spacious void is now a coffin. I bang against the wood frame begging for someone to release me, screaming my lungs out hoping someone, anyone would hear me and come to my aid. I hear a low, steady voice echo on the outside, immediately followed by a sense of relief, lifting a weight off my chest I didn't know I was carrying. I feel at peace, then I finally make out what it's saying.
"Midoriya"
I flinch at its tone. So gentle, so fragile.
I've hurt them, not physically, but emotionally. My worst fear has come true. I've become the villain I always feared I could be.
"Midoriya, breathe"
I feel a touch break through the dark, but no light comes through the cracks to illuminate the scene. I exist only in touch, in the sensation of a warm hand against my shoulder, another steady against my back, gently rising me so I may sit up, lifting me from my darkened prison.
The world comes in blurs at first. It comes with a bright light and crimson eyes focused intently on mine. It comes in waves of color and in shapes, geometric lines forming objects and people and I recognize the man in front of me.
"M-Mr. Aizawa?"
My voice is unsteady, raspy and cracking, it's strained. My speech is forced, each word breaking barriers, as if I were underwater, the pressure slowing my movement making each syllable labored. I push and push, trying to speak, but the name seems to be the only thing I can manage.
"Glad to see you're awake."
His tone is lighter now, calmer, less panicked than it was before. I feel bad for having worried him, but at the very least he's recovering, though from what I'm not sure... shock? Pity? Concern? Or maybe it's an illusion, a pleasantry that he sees as a necessity, his duty as a pro hero.
I try to respond, to thank him for helping me but no words come out when I try to speak.
"Do you know where you are?"
He asks.
I shake my head.
I don't know where I am... I barely know who I am.
His expression darkens.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Yet again I shake my head no.
Memory is a terribly fickle thing. Here one moment gone the next. Who am I to question it's ancient wisdom? If I am meant to remember I will remember. If I am meant to forget I will forget. I am, however, starting to question this logic as the man's face turns from a concerned frown to a grimace.
