[DISCONTINUED] reaper | todoroki shouto

7 | HER

When Miya woke up with the incessant pounding in her head, the first thing that always came to her mind in every new day was: when the fuck am I going to die?

Ironically, she was only staying alive until she finally finds AMPED and put an end to them, but what rooted in her heart of frigid stone was the desire to feel numb. Feel nothing. Feel the void she craved for. The acid trickling down her throat was the closest drug she got for it—but it's always never enough.

Because what else could kill her yet save her at the same time?

Ah, yes. She could just pick up the dagger off the wooden floor and slit her porcelain throat—oh she could adorn her rose-coloured lungs with crimson lunas with the katana—fuck she can't, she can't because she promised. She vowed. She swore. She bowed.

She was the goddess of—

"Fuck," she cursed out loud as she clutched her head, eyes screwed shut as she winced. This is normal. She had hangovers on shitty days worse than other shitty days. Perhaps each one feels the same or even worse than the previous.

Like a routine, she fell off the couch and groggily walked—crawled—to the bathroom to grab the pills she needed for an immense headache hammering her head, forcibly swallowing them down with a tightened knot. With an exasperated sigh, she leaned against the bathroom wall, its cool surface kissing the skin on her neck while she kept her eyes closed in hopes that the ache in her head would go away.

Times like this Miya wished she was dead. Like really dead. In fact, after what happened last night, part of her wanted to stay yet part of her wanted to finally rest forever and never wake up.

But that would mean leaving nothing to change the society she was chasing after and also abandoning the lonesome neighbour whom everyone would find caring—the angel she didn't deserve. Eto would be devastated if she happened to knock on Miya-chan's door to bring the usual food only to notice that she wasn't home or perhaps, missing. Worse, Eto would use the spare key Miya had hidden under the mat, and finally, walk into the foul-smelling apartment from the bloodied corpse of said vigilante.

What difference would it make if she really left?

People would barely notice—she barely made interactions with strangers from counters to even call it friendly. She doesn't want anything attached to her when she knew her time is limited every day because when a mission goes wrong, it's do or die.

That is if Miya counted Eto as a family since then, what more could she do?

Miya slowly trailed her fingers to the naked space of her neck, needing to feel the familiar metallic cocoon dangling on her skin for nothing apparently. The pendant she'd been wearing ever since she was a teenager wasn't that special, but wearing it and playing with it was a habit she picked on whenever she feels empty, even though she feels nothing from the pendant her father gave her back then. The pendant that she always—

Her eyes shot open when she only felt her bare neck.

She could've sworn she—

"Son of a bitch!" She gripped her hair out of frustration when she could think of the only way she lost her necklace. She abruptly stood up in which she regretted almost immediately when the pound in her head hasn't gone away.

Then, she grabbed whatever she needed for the night—daggers, katana, scarf and everything she found essentially convenient to carry before she left her apartment by the window, making her way to the sunset while muttering a mindless, "Fuck heroes."

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