Blood of a Villain || MHA Fic! ||

Prologue

The sounds of my mother's sobbing still haunt me. Even now, I can hear her muted cries from every direction when I attempt to sleep. She believed the pillow would muffle her cries and the walls were thick enough to keep them within her bedroom. She would always start soon after entering her room for the night, and it would continue well into the early hours of the morning. She finally collapsed from exhaustion and an eerie silence devoured our home.

The next morning, she would pretend nothing was wrong. She never acknowledged the fact she had been crying, and that's when I learned it was a secret for only her to know. She hid her true emotions behind the piles of makeup she spent an hour applying every morning in the bathroom when the only person to ever see her face was me.

The mother I saw during the day was a completely different person from the one I heard during the night. Her voice, which was normally filled with kindness and laughter, was corrupted with pained gasps and broken cries. Even as a toddler, I knew my mother was hurting badly. Out of respect for her desperation to shield me from her pain, I never once asked her about the crying that kept me awake at night.

At first, I thought maybe her sadness was caused by her lack of a quirk. Although I'd never seen one before, mother would tell me stories of heroes. They all had amazing special abilities and would use their quirks to defeat villains, who decided to use their quirks for evil. There was one fatal flaw to this theory though. My mother always held such a terrified expression when she told me about them. She thought she hid it well enough, but the shaking in her voice was the same as it was each night.

When I first asked her why she didn't have a quirk, my mother explained that although most of society had developed these strange abilities, there still existed a number of the population that had nothing. My mother was one of them, as were her other family members. It was at that moment that I gave up on ever developing a quirk of my own. I did not want my mother to feel lonely if I developed one while she had none, and I never wanted to experience the reason she feared quirks so much.

We were able to spend almost every moment of every day together. Our front door didn't have a doorknob like the other doors in our apartment, and my mother had told me many times that I was not to ever go through that door - even if it was open. We found all sorts of ways to pass the time though, even if I could never experience the wonderful outside she told me about.

My mother would spend hours each day reading aloud to me. She even switched back and forth between different voices, making the stories even more fun. And as I grew slightly older, I soon began to read little words when I thought I could recognize them. Mother said I was much smarter than other little girls my age, and that she would prepare me for all the difficulties I would have to face.

When I was good, she would sometimes reward me by showing me her photo albums. She had all kinds of pictures of herself and the rest of her family, whom I had never met. In these times, she would tell me true stories about my grandparents, my aunts, and my uncles. Although I was unable to meet them in person, I had always felt a strong connection to my mother's family.

My mother was the only living being other than myself I knew and interacted with. We had no one other than each other. My mother had told me her friends couldn't talk to her anymore, and that the rest of our family didn't know where she was. As for me, I'd never been given the opportunity to make friends in the first place.

I got used to the cold stone floors and the dim light that emitted off the candles mother lit each morning before waking me. We didn't have any electricity, although I hadn't known what that was at the time. Instead, we had a stone fireplace that provided our main source of heat. On the especially cold days, my mother would heat up the water in a pot and pour it into the tub as a treat for the two of us to share - a warm bath.