Work Text:
blood.
all you know
is blood.
you are
four,
and there is a
bird,
and all there is
is blood.
you are
eight,
and this is
your father’s wife,
she is supposed to
love you,
but you look down at your
arm,
and carved into your skin
is that word,
“monster,”
covered
in blood.
you are
thirteen,
and you don’t know
how to save yourself
from drowning in red,
so you drink from his neck
until all
of your sins
are blood.
you are
fourteen,
and you are a monster,
like she wrote in
your flesh,
and so you look
at your wrist
unscathed so
far,
and you drag the knife down
until you believe your death will be
by blood.
you are
fifteen,
and you
touch them,
and they float,
and you let
go, and you really must be crazy
because the world
is covered
in blood.
you are sixteen,
and she might be using her quirk,
because you have been floating
for months, and she is so
beautiful,
and you know more
than blood.