Escaping

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The world around me was broken. Many people couldn't see how horrible this world truly was, they were too infatuated with Superheroes. Heroes were symbols of hope, a strength to defeat all evil. They created the hoax that everyone could be save. No one ever talks about those who never got saved. They never talk about Quirk slaves. No one wanted to hear about those who had no hope, so we were always kept in shadows. 

My heart was pounding, I was sure they could hear it. My bare feet ignored the pain of the cement ground. I had escaped, I just had to find someone to help me. A Hero. I needed a Hero. People looked at my broken form, but did nothing other than stare. Why weren't they helping me? Don't they had quirks? Can't they help me? They all looked up at Heroes, why couldn't they try to help someone in need? Why couldn't they act like the role models they loved? I've needed a hero for years, but no one ever showed up. It looks like they still weren't going to show up. What's the point in having Superheroes if there was no one willing to help someone? I tripped over my own raw feet. I heard footsteps coming up behind me, I look over my shoulder and screamed. Yet, no one came to save me. 

I was beaten badly as punishment for running away. There were going to be scars that never would vanish, a reminder for myself, to show me exactly what my hope in heroes got me. I knew, from that point on, that if I want to be free, I can't hope for anyone to help me. While people gave themselves the titles of Superhero, they weren't really a hero. All they had was super potential to do some super good... and they wasted it on themselves, ignoring those who truly needed saving. I was going to escape, and when I finally managed to truly get away, I was going to show the world just how blind they have been. 

Days passed, which added up into years. Years of being a Quirk Slave. Quirk Slaves were exactly what it sounded like. Slaves being being forced to use their Quirks in whatever way their 'Masters' determined. My Quirk was quite strong. If only it was strong enough to create my freedom. I made my way to his study. I knock on the door, waiting for him to allow me inside. I learned to never walk into a room without knocking, the beatings were nothing compared to what I walked into. 

"Come in, (First Name)." I walked into the room, which had bookshelves stocked with books from floor to ceiling. In the middle of the room was a large, impressive looking desk. A large chair loomed over the desk. But out of everything in the room, the thing that intimidated me the most, the thing that made me want to vomit every time I saw it, was the man in the chair. He spent most of his time in his chair, figuring out schedules for all his Quirk Slaves, to maximize profits. He motioned me to come over to him, and I knew what he wanted me to do. I pulled over an extra chair, moving it next to his. "Your schedule for this next week." He hands me the paper as I sit down. I glanced at the paper when he placed his hand on my knee. I had lots of appointments through the days, which was expected, after all, he would work us to death if he could get away with it. I could feel his beady eyes scan me. "Are you going to just sit there and waste time? Time is money, no one under my care is allowed to waste money. You out of everyone should know that." He hissed at me, and I knew I had to start working. 

"I'm sorry, sir." I mumble, setting the paper down, and taking a hold of his slimy hand. With the help of my quirk, during skin on skin contact, I could manipulate feelings and emotions, to help people relax, and feel well rested, among all kinds of other feelings. Similar to a massage would be the best way to truly explain. I could also use my quirk to create pain and negative emotions... but I learned that if I did so, I would get severely punished. It wasn't worth it, at least, not at the moment. I will lash out when I know I can break free. He glared at me for sometime, before going back to some paperwork. Every once in a while, another Quirk Slave would be called in to get their schedule. They would all give me pitied looks, knowing that I would be a lightning rod. If something went wrong, if he got angry for any reason while I was at his side, I would be the one who got hurt. I herd him growl, and my heart dropped a bit. What had happened now?

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