Tired of pretending (kiribaku)

Chapter 23: The harsh reality of life

Strong Tw for abuse and gore

Bakugos P.O.V

I knew I was in for it the moment she raised her fists, my only hope to shield myself from the harsh blows that came after. I knew deep down that I deserved it, the pain, the harsh words, the yelling.

She aimed for my stomach first, knocking the air out of my lungs, I nearly collapsed to the floor as I coughed up blood.

"GET UP BRAT..YOUR SO WEAK..!" She screamed at me, causing my body to start shaking.

She pummeled my shaking form with her fists, hitting my still throbbing shoulder and causing me to cry out in pain.

She continued until I was a sobbing mess on the ground, that's when she started kicking me.

"GET...UP YOU BRAT AND TAKE IT..THIS IS FOR NOT GETTING PERFECT GARDES AND GETTING INJURED ..! HOW WEAK CAN YOU BE..!" She screamed, continuing to assault my shaking from until I was nearly unconscious.

She glared at me and scoffed.

"Pathetic-"

"Clean this up you brat and make me dinner.." she said in a harsh tone before walking away , most likely to grab more alcohol.

I attempted to move my bruised limbs but I could barely feel anything except pain.

Slowly, I reached for the wall and dragged my limp form upward, wincing at the movement. Snot and tears ran down my face.

I limped over to the mirror that was located in my bathroom to see my hideous , hunched over, form.

I had a black eye and visible bruises that littered my arms and legs, there were a couple sharp cuts from where I scraped my thin flesh against the wooden furniture butter in over all I looked like I had just gotten mugged.

I cringed and looked away, telling myself that I deserved this.

Digging through my bathroom drawers, I pulled out a rag and limped back to the hallway to clean up the blood and tears that smeared all over the hallway floor.

She would be furious if my blood stained her carpet

Once it was clean I stood up, bitting back another whimper of pain, and made my way to the kitchen where I began cooking some pasta as anything else would send her into another fit of rage.

The water slowly began to boil and I tried to fight back another wave of tears that were caused by the agony of standing up for so long.

"Where's my pasta you brat...!" She yelled as she walked Into the kitchen, I flinched and stuttered our a response.

"I-it's c-cooking M'am.." I mumbled.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT STUTTERING DO YOU WANT TO BE WEAK LIKE YOUR FATHER..!" She screamed at me, slapping me across the face.

I winced and put my head down in shame.

"M'sorry" I squeaked out. "It won't happen again..." I apologized.

"Hurry up.." she growled before retiring to her spot on the couch with another bottle of liquor.

As soon as the pasta finished cooking I poured it onto a plate and with shaky hand , walked it over to my mother.

"here" I whispered, handing her the full plate of pasta.

"Tch..whatever brat go wash the dishes and scrub the kitchen until it's spotless , after that go to bed and not bother me or you'll regret it." She snarled.