Arc 1
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"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking back to me!" Your mother slaps you on your cheek, grips your shirt, and flings you down onto the hardwood floor.. Eyes following to the ground, a secret promise helped fight back your tears.

You tried to get out of her grip. But the training you've been doing for that past few months still hasn't paid off. With a last struggling effort, you tried to push upwards in an attempt to flee to your room. The adult woman had noticed and kicked you down once more. Just like your hopes and dreams. Bones in the body of your own ached through the suffering you had shortly endured through the beating.

As if you called child protective services, your mother would lie through each and every question anyone would throw her way, then beat you senseless for attempting to wiggle out of her mental chokehold. She loves control over everything, and when she doesn't have control, she lies.

"I honestly thought I raised you better! Turns out I raised a spoiled brat who can't learn when SHE IS ALLOWED TO SPEAK!" She yelled in your face. Spit splattered all over your glasses and cheeks, then your mother started getting up. What is she going to do? Was she leaving to go get one of her torture toys or let you be?

She ended up kicking you straight across the room. Like a small ball getting hit by a baseball bat.

Heavily breathing, you tried to get up. Across the room, your mother was approaching you. 'I need to get up!' You thought. She was getting even closer. Your chest felt like there was something weighing it down if only you can use your quirk in this situation.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT ACCEPTED INTO UA, DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN TALK BACK TO ME!" Her blazing orange eyes scorched into your memory. You had to submit to what she says. Though you don't have a choice anymore. As if you were a doll, she lifted your frail body up from the ground.

"Got that brat?" You nodded. So she put you down and walked off, being satisfied with your daily punishment. Body waiting on the ground, your fingers reached to touch the wound on your face. It was only a small cut that reached from the side of your temple to across your cheekbone with tender skin threatening to blossom into violet flowers.

Then running into the bathroom, locking the door shut, and reaching under the sink for a rag to clean the trickling blood from your cheekbone, your eyes met the figure in the mirror.

"Jeez, how long has it been since I slept well." Your fingers glazed over the dark bags under your eyes. The circles pushed out as the blood circulated underneath them in an attempt to clear the other stagnant blood cells.

I think this is the right time you should free your soul from this house of horrors.

At least you had some relatives across the city that you can stay with. They knew what actually happens in your home. The torture, humiliation, embarrassment, they knew it all too well. Like they were hiding a camera in the house somewhere. Watching and knowing everything and anything that's been happening.

After cleaning up the sticky, burgundy blood off your face and bandaging the top of your head, you ran into your room, grabbed your bag and stuffed all the things you needed: School uniform, headphones, keys, homework, skin products, extra clothes and two pairs of shoes (especially your trainers), lastly your wallet.

Without thinking, without any incline to think what is going to happen, you were out the door in one shape, with the door shut. Then ran down the street while hearing your mother screaming out to 'get your ass back here'. Like one wise man may say, you were flying free. 
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'I need to get somewhere...for the night at least.' Nearing the cityscape, maybe you could get to one of your relatives. But the only one that lived closest was your brother and his wife...

Even if you were to get there...How would you get to your brother's house? Bus? Trains? Uber?

Buses wouldn't be running this late. They usually stop running at...8:35pm. It was currently 10:55. Not to mention, an Uber drive to your brother's house would leave your bank account swearing at you.

I guess going on a public train wouldn't be so bad...though an old geezer better not try to touch your ass. You'll give him some whiplash to the head making him feel like he just got wrecked in a boxing match if anyone touches you. Anyone.

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"(Y/n)! What are you doing here?!" He shouted as he gripped your shoulders in surprise. Huffing out a sigh after the tiresome trip, your fingers brushed against your skin to show the mirage of blue and purple droplets appearing on the side of your temple as dried blood glimmers against your skin from the light inside of his house.

The surprised in his eyes flashed through tears as his soft fingers ghosted across the bruised skin. "Can I stay here...please?" Meek and exhausted from earlier today, your shoulders were able to relax as your older brother snatched the duffel bag from your pale vined hands. "Come on in. You must be tired."

As a light shive from his other hand nudged your body inside, your body made to the guest room, rather languidly, and kicking off your shoes; you flopped against the clean and covered mattress to fill the empty space. 

The taste of  freedom was fulfilling to me then.

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Edited: 09/09/20