✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
⪼ 𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.⪻
Hanae Yami's childhood had been a rough one. Cast aside, abused and tormented, she took to hiding in the shadows, her safe zone. But the dark ca...
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Please read before proceeding.
This book will contain mentions of suicide/ suicidal thoughts, abuse, slight sexual themes and graphic descriptions of murder/killing. If you're uncomfortable with any of these, don't read.
If you feel suicidal and need mental support, please talk to a loved one or someone you trust. Alternatively, you can also contact 988.
I love you guys. Please take care of yourself.
...
Recommended song: The Fountain- by Bad Omens
CW: This chapter contains a suicide attempt
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She was there, and yet she was not. She was a child.
Most of Hanae Yami's childhood had been a blur. The only flashes of memory were of constant yelling, bottles being broken and beatings. After her parents would fight, they'd get drunk. And once they were out of their senses, they'd either sleep like pigs or take out their rage on Yami. By the time she was in middle school, she'd become a master at hiding her bruises and always took to steering out of their way, into the shadows.
That was until a teacher found her in the changing rooms.
Yami's back was turned to the door, three giant bruises on her back from the punches she'd got from her mother. She quickly put on her shirt, greeting her Homeroom teacher with a timid smile.
"Hanae?" Yami's teacher searched the girl's face with concern. "Do you have any trouble at home?"
"No, sensei. Why do you ask?"
Dont tell them.
It'll be of no use.
Not when your damn father is in the police. He's got ways of covering shit up.
"Hanae." The teacher walked towards Yami and put her hands on her shoulder. "You can talk to your teachers. We can help you and whatever situation you're in."
You can't.
They're good at this game.
"I'm fine, sensei," Yami said, stepping back. "I've got to get to class now."
Yami's homeroom teacher watched the fifteen-year-old walk out of the changing room, suspicion rising. Now that she thought of it, Yami was three years older than her class. A fifteen-year-old in grade six. On top of that, her appearance was always shaggy, covered head to toe, even in the heat of the cruel summer.
