Work Text:
Dear society,
Just what do I do now?
My goal was to ruin him. It wasn’t to just simply kill him, or make it so he could never work again due to an injury or whatever. It was to honestly ruin him. Ruin him for all to witness. Ruin this image of what a “hero” was suppose to be, as he had ruined it for me behind closed doors.
Well, I got what I want.
Honestly, I was ready for anything to happen to achieve my goal. I was ready to die for it, I was ready to be sent to prison for it. What I wasn’t ready for was the actual fallout that happened because of this. I wasn’t ready to be pitied or offered fake comfort or have any sort of leniency onto me. I mean, I suppose I should have suspected it… After all, what I had done was uncovered some really hideous nasty dirt one the number 1 hero, which, afterwards the hero counsel had to treat me, as a situation, very carefully. The whole world was watching, you know. I was too publicised, and Endeavor’s sins were too insidious, that, despite what horrible things I had done, despite the horrible atrocities I had committed, I was somehow rewarded. Therapy.
Didn’t feel like a reward though, not after being braced and ready for death, or in the very least, prison for life. It felt disgusting like a vile snake slithering down my throat and coiling in my stomach. This idea that I should be forgiven, that it was his abuse that made me a villain, that it had given me mental illness that could be worked through or some shit like that was paper thin at best. It was a farce to make hero society look softer and kinder, not to villains supposedly, but to the victims of heroes or whatever. It wasn’t real though, and that’s the important thing to note here on this.
Back to the point at hand, I really thought I’d somehow be happier with Endeavor dealt with. The world now knows how horrible he is, and Endeavor, to my own surprise, was the one who ended up in prison.
At first, yeah, I was thrilled. I had so much energy pumping through me, so much chaotic energy that I couldn’t even try to channel, but… That wore down. I think I’m crashing. In fact, I don’t think I know what to do with myself anymore.
Before the league, I was just bouncing around with no direction in life. Stain inspired me. He gave me direction and I took it and ran with it. Even when I was part of the league, the point wasn’t that I was now suddenly a villain, it’s that I had a goal and they would be helping me with that goal, whether they knew so or not. I guess you could say though, before the league, before Giran made contact with me, I was sort of just lost in life.
That’s where I am again, though. Lost in life.
I did what I wanted to do. I was prepared to die for it. Now what?
Therapy?
You think therapy is going to save me?
Apart from the stubborn, “I don’t need saving” and, of course, the obvious, “I don’t need therapy”, that’s not going to fix anything. It’s not going to fix anything with me, or within me.
Don’t think I don’t know what people are saying about me! And, you know, I’m fine with that, too! I made my bed, and I’ve been preparing to lay in it since I got started! But therapy? I’m getting the rug pulled out from under my feet and told “You can’t go to sleep yet”. It’s not fair! I mean- obviously it’s not fair. I’m a villain and this is stupid, and, there’s no real reason to be trying to rehabilitate me or any nonsense like that. It’s not fair to the rest of the world that, me, a known criminal, a murderer, who even murdered a pro hero, gets to roam free. It’s also definitely not fair to me, making me continue to live in this pro hero loving world, free when I know I shouldn’t be, and with everything that’s going on around me.
Even if, even if I somehow got “fixed”... I’m still gonna be the same me. I’m still going to be this monster with a stapled face. I’m still going to be hated, loathed, and feared. I’m still never going to belong anywhere in this world besides prison or a dumpster. I shouldn’t be alive, and I shouldn’t have been alive since the incident happened, and the fact that anybody is trying is frustrating to no end. There’s nothing for me! There’s no reason for this bullshit!
I hate this.
I hate you!
I hate you for doing this. We all know nothing good will come of this. There is no good that can come of this at all. This is all just for show put on by the hero counsel, and everybody knows it. I know it, Endeavor knows it, the league knows it, and you know it.
I just…
He’s been in there for a year, and I keep hoping he’ll get killed. He’s been in there for an entire year, and disappointment has set in that I haven’t been told about his demise.
Those prisoners most definitely hate Endeavor, and, without the use of his quirk, surely somebody could get the better of him, right? I know he can fight but…. There’s so much spite there.
I keep thinking to all those times I was told about prison fights… How certain people get killed the moment they go into prison. Certain people who do certain things to get into prison are the ones who get targeted. And my father? He was a man who put a lot of those inmates in there. Thinking that he’s somehow being protected by guards, it makes my stomach flip. I know, it’s like, the “right thing to do” or whatever, because like, justice, or, whatever the fuck has been decided and…. His fate isn’t to be killed, it’s just to be in a hell-hole for a short period of time in the grand scheme of things… God. Five years, can you believe that? Five years.
But, in my mind, I keep hearing what those people of my past have told me. How certain people don’t live when they get sent to prison. And I feel in my heart that that’s what real justice is.
I’m just here. I’m just waiting. Waiting and nothing has happened yet.
And I fear he’s going to come out of prison, and nothing will have happened to him.
I’ll just, still be here, lost, with no place in the world that I belong, where people try to mold me like clay, vulnerable from their many hands pressing against my form, trying to budge and shape me... And then he’ll be there. He’ll come out of prison. And we’ll meet again. Him, hardened, and me, softened.
My mind wonders in his direction whether I permit it to or not; What choices will he make in prison? What does he look like in there, now? Has he shaved his head, is he in a gang? Does anyone even want his piece of shit ass in their clique? Has he learned to eat fast or not at all? Is he going to sport new wounds? New scars the next time I see him? Will he make alliances? Similar-minded people as him, making him even worse than what he was before? Is he going to get “fixed” somehow being in there? Somehow see how everything he did was wrong and make things better? Does he think about what caused him to be in there before he goes to sleep at night? Does he think about how much I was willing to risk to ruin him and do this to him? Does he know? Does he have any idea what he’s done that hurt any of us? Why haven’t they told me he’s dead yet? Why hasn’t rumors been true that people like him don’t make it out alive? Why is he still alive?
My decission was a dumb one. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Instead, here I am, writing a letter that I will never send out. A personal fuck you to anyone wanting an outcome like this.
Dabi