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Maybe she was a monster. It would be no surprise. She'd heard it from the very beginning, told that she was some sick creature only capable of disturbing, evil things. She'd hoped that the years of quirk therapy would take the edge off of things, but as she ran to the bus station now, she knew there was no coming back after what she'd just done. Saito… she'd really killed him. The worst part was, she didn't feel guilty at all. She felt free . Like she'd finally found some part of herself that had been hidden away, like a mask plastered to her face had been chipped away. He'd been so beautiful like that, bruises scattering his face and blood dripping out of his neck, empty green eyes staring up at her lifelessly.
It wasn't uncommon for those with quirks related to blood to have outbursts. While not common quirks like fire and telekinesis, they were terribly rare either. You didn't hear much about them in a positive light, that was just the nature of villainous quirks, you hid them away until you did something terrible, then it was the main point of news articles. It had been assumed by her family that her moment of deviation had been before her quirk therapy, bringing them a dead and bloody bird she still could see in her mind's eye, but this was just a bit more drastic.
She couldn't even really pinpoint what it was that made her do it. She'd had a crush on him for a while, secretly thought of doing such things behind closed doors and in her dreams, but she didn't expect to actually do it, didn't remember choosing to. There he was, in a fight with one of the other boys, and her vision had simply gone red, overwhelmed with love and craving and the urge to cover herself in the one she was so infatuated with. She wanted to suck up everything in him, she wanted to become as close to him as possible, she wanted to be him. It was the most blissful thing she had ever experienced.
No, no, she couldn't feel guilty. She was scared though. She couldn't go home. She knew that. She could already hear her father shouting, her mother's hands across her face, the looks on her siblings' faces. As much as there was no coming back to normalcy after commiting murder, she couldn't go back to being a kid. She was on her own now. There wasn't time to get things from her room, stuff her few personal belongings in a bag, they'd be after her. The best she could do was use her lunch money to take a bus as far away from this place as possible.
She cried once she boarded, forehead bumping against the dirty glass of the window. Not loudly, there were no sobs or sniffles, just slow tears rolling down her cheeks. She'd left everything all for a few moments of ecstasy, a handful of minutes spent fulfilling her urges she'd kept at bay for so long. It felt wrong, crying for herself after killing Saito less than an hour ago, but not wrong enough to stop herself.
Would she have done it of her own will? Somehow she didn't think so. She didn't kill that bird. She'd simply found it on the ground, already dead and bloody, and had admired it for what it was. This was different. This was like a tidal wave, built up higher and higher until it finally crashed down over her, sweeping all her common sense away. Quirk therapy was supposed to help with that, wasn't it? It was supposed to stop her before things got out of hand.
But before what got out of hand? If all she'd done was admire things before that, what was the harm? She couldn't be the bad one, could she? They'd let things grow as they had, they made the dam in her, holding back her quirk until she wasn't strong enough anymore. If not for all that pretending, Saito might be alive. She might not have to be on this shitty bus, running away from everything she's ever known with nothing more than the clothes on her back. It wasn't her fault, and it wasn't her quirk's fault, it was them . Her parents, her classmates, her siblings, her therapists, everyone around her.
This was an opportunity, if anything. After all, if she couldn't go back, why try? Why continue the damage they'd started by doing the same thing she had for the last fourteen years? Why not continue living as she wanted, free and happy and her own? It sounded peaceful, and it sounded like her. The mask was finally off, and she had no intention of ever putting it back on.