It had been a few days but eventually she had adjusted to the ceilings lights. It had taken quite some time after staring up above to finally gotten used to the intense blinding radiance that rained down. Hours of just lying on her back and gazing upon it while thoughts raced inside her head was a common pastime while she laid on the mattress given to her in the cells.

The prison was generous enough to give her food every meal, and quite usually a lot. Served with rice, alongside vegetable dishes, miso soup, and various meat, still she never had much of an appetite. She was never hungry and ate little to nothing. The consumptions of something other than pills made her sick, and her mind always made her lose her appetite. She's heard that even in prison, Japan always had great food, and she knew her young self fifteen years ago would yearn to test if that idea was correct, but whenever she surveyed it now, she couldn't help but feel anything but satisfaction and joy.

Only resurfacing memories that she missed came to her, but they came in small bits that were easy to process but at the same time, irrelevant to her current situation. Trivial things, for example, her favorite cuisine of food had always been Italian strangely, and her favorite cooking from Shota was his bento. She had a large palate before, where she loved to eat all types of food that could satisfy her, which only reminded her how much different she was from now. How much she changed since then. Did Shota change drastically as well? Things as simple as his cooking?

She used to love the enjoyment of fulfilling her stomach, her mouth savoring all sorts of flavors the world had to offer to her, there was so much passion and things to enjoy about consumables. The making, the design, everything from how it was constructed to how it ended up into her stomach she loved. She was happy with it, and it saddened her something like that had converted to something she no longer could relish. That something she loved was beginning to change, not to her will, and she was powerless to that shift.

Y/N didn't think of this life as her future, and she never intended to be it. Her life and future was ripped from such tragedy and all she wanted now was normalcy, for the pieces that fell out of the puzzle board to be put back together like they were back then. She wanted clarity and closure as to why her life took this sudden turn, but it was also possible that it was her fault for this cause as well. There was nothing more she hated than regret, it clawed at her skin and it took control of her actions and thinking. It would dread her for years to come, and there was almost no possible way to erase it. If she committed suicide... then surely it was her fault, wasn't it? Of course it was, she had to take accountability for her own life... whatever happened to her was her responsibility because it was her life?

She didn't ask for this lifestyle though... perhaps she deserved it... whatever she had done... she most likely deserved everything that had came up at her, and she wouldn't be surprised if there was more to come.

Even death couldn't save her huh?

She bit her lip. The simple things she enjoyed back then... she wasn't going to experience them again, because she simply didn't deserve happiness. Pain and suffering was fated for her life it seemed like, and nothing was going to change that. She couldn't escape from it, she couldn't run from it, she couldn't face it.

Everything felt empty to her, knowing that.

Why did everything have to change? Why couldn't it just stay the same? Her life back then was fine until it took a turn...

A sudden knock interrupted her thought process as she sat up from her lying position, making her cock her head. Usually the only time someone ever came in was to place food and collect her last plate, but as she looked outside, she perceived that it was not the time for a meal yet. It was still quite early actually. It wasn't quite noon yet for her lunch meal.

"Miss L/N," she heard from past the door to her cell. It was a masculine and deep voice, so most likely one of the prison guards. The entrance unlocked "You are required to attend a season with the clinical psychologist. Please follow me."

Y/N became hesitant in moving but decided it would be better anyway, as she swung her lower half across the side of what she could hardly call a bed, and her legs shook a little bit as she hadn't moved from her position in a while. Standing up, she then walked over to the guard, silently so, and the two of them were then led down a number of hallways until she arrived at the entrance of a room.

After following the directions from the guard, she went inside the room, meeting a face she's already seen.

"Miss L/N, is it? Hopefully, you still remember me. I am Dr. Carrol, we met a few days ago during the interrogation," the blonde doctor greeted with a small smile on his lips as he then gestured to a seat at the table he sat around. "You could take a seat if you would like."

The doctor sat formally at the chair, his spine straight and shoulders broad, his fingers locked together in a casual state. He still wore the same attire as he did before, and there was still that softness and care in his eyes. She shifted her eyes off of him. The table before him was flat and there was only an empty notepad and pen in front of him.

Like a robot, she obeyed wordlessly, trudging to the seat and pulling the metal chair back so she could seat herself on it, interlocking her fingers as she sought not to create eye contact with him. Why she needed her she didn't know, although it was explained, she didn't know why exactly did she have to see him once again. Not that he was terrible, he wasn't, but she hated the questions that he had given her. Not only did it fill her with anxiety, she hated the thought of her past, because they were overwritten by her own negative thoughts when she was thinking of a response.

"Alright, I'm just going to be asking a few questions about how you feel. Is that alright?"

She nodded even though she was uncertain if she was ready with the bombardment of questions concerning herself. The doctor must have noticed her unease and reluctance, before reassuring her that she didn't have to "answer all of the questions if you don't want to. It's up to you. I just want to know how you are." With a final nod of affirmation from him, Y/N decided to proceed with the questions.

Y/N took one more look around the room to make sure it was just her and the doctor, as she was already nervous enough, and more people would have caused her uneasiness to skyrocket. She swallowed down a gulp and shifted her arms underneath the table, beginning to fiddle with her fingers.

"Okay, the first question should be easy and simple. Just, how are you doing today?" His voice was laced with what came to be genuine concern and consideration towards her. His position in his chair changed so that he sat more in a relaxed state than the more professional and rigid position he was in before, and his hands which were on his lap before were now splayed out in front of him freely.

There was silence for once, as she tried to find the right words to express herself, but she knew that he was waiting for an answer so she spouted out a vague response. "Um, I guess... I'm okay..." was the best way she could word it. 'Okay' definitely didn't describe all her feelings though. There were a lot of things that weren't 'okay.'

The Doctor nodded along side, before grasping the notepad and began writing on the page. "Don't worry, I'm just writing and making sure you're okay and writing things that you may need during your time here." He looked up from his notes and focused back on her.

"Is there anything you need or you'd like to have in your cell? I know it can get boring easily."

She didn't quite understand what the question meant. She didn't quite exactly need anything, she had the basic necessities to live, and she wasn't sure what exactly they were asking when what'd she like in her cell. What exact items were they referring to? Anything? Anyone? Well, if he was commenting on how boring it was, he most likely meant something related to an activity to keep her productive. In that case, she didn't have anything or wanted anything, staring at the ceiling and reflecting on herself was enough. "Not really..."

"Not really? Are you sure?" He asked with a kind of insistence that made her wince. Was what she said wrong? He continued. "I can usually see what I can about some special privileges. How do you usually pass the time?"

She contemplated for quite a bit. Though she spent most of her time either thinking or napping, usually the initial option, she usually couldn't sleep either way. But she would appreciate doing something else from time to time, something that could take her mind off of her past. "I-I... am I allowed to have a pen and paper? And usually I just sleep... I don't really do much... in my cell..."

Bobbing his head along, he scribbled for a few more moments, and as he did he questioned her further. "I see. I think I can get you a pen and paper, shouldn't be an issue. So, how about we talk about the interrogation. The one four days ago. Do you remember? It's okay if you don't want to revisit that topic." He then set down his notepad gently, and peered at her.

She didn't want to revisit the interrogation. It was a very confusing and terrifying time for her. Questions that she didn't know that answers overwhelmed her, and learning the fact that she was a villain, remember the time as a villain, and then being reminded that she had killed herself had taken a toll on her. Not only that, she met Shota for the first time in a long time, but it doesn't even look like she was worth his time. No, she didn't want to go back, but she knew she had to anyways. She still wanted to ask how Shota was... "T-that should be okay with me..."

"If you ever feel uncomfortable with anything, let me know, alright? I want to help you here, so please don't push yourself if you don't feel like it." There was then a pause, to which Y/N assumed so he could get the assertion that she was okay and ready to proceed. "So... you've met an old friend during the interrogation. What was that like? How did that make you feel?"

Y/N tried to recall her time back at the interrogation. Where Shota was seated across from her and how he had confessed that she had died, and not just died, but commited suicide. The kind of gaze at her, as if he was ashamed or didn't know her anymore. It made her want to sink down and be swallowed up by a sinkhole. She hadn't expected Shota to have arrived, but he was there, and it seemed like he had moved on past her, or maybe, that wasn't the case with how he uttered her death. "I-I... I was shocked and sad... I haven't seen him in so long... and he's changed so much... he's so different from back then... from what I could remember..."

"I can imagine. A lot must have changed from when you last remember things, right?" What followed his question was a nod from her. Of course a lot has changed from when she last remembered things. They were both fifteen years older, and she had no idea that she'd ever end up as a villain.

"Are there any things that have changed a lot that are really striking or upsetting to you?" The answer was obvious. "Yeah... I j-just found out that I died... by killing myself." She whispered the last part to herself. "I'm someone I didn't imagine that I would b-be before... I-I remember taking the lives of people... something that I never wanted to do..." She mumbled as she shuddered at the recalling of those horrid memories.

"What was your plan for life when you were younger?"

A hero. That was what she wanted to be. If that wasn't obvious enough. She had always wanted to be one, every child wanted to be a hero. "A hero. A hero... so I could be the someone that could support my friends... and someone for others... to be proud of... a hero so I could remain close to those that I care about a lot..."

"I see. Things have taken the wrong turn for that, and it's most likely far from what you've imagined. Is that right?"

She nodded.

"And from your reactions during the interrogation it seems like it's really a problem for you, isn't it? How does it feel for you? Frustrating? Confusing? Can you describe it for me?"

"It's frustrating, confusing, um, just like you said it. I-I... I don't feel like a good person," Y/N looked down at her lap, seeing the same hands that have shed blood and hurt Shota. Someone that she loved and cared about. "Someone who nobody could love anymore. I remember e-everything that I did so well... and I h-hate it... it feels like what I thought someone I was close with is now so distant and it's just... I-I don't have anyone anymore. I know I only spoke to Sh- Eraserhead... and I haven't t-talked to anybody else I knew... but... I think t-that they've c-changed too much to... to b-be friends with someone like me." She finished off her thoughts as she rambled on, a pang in her chest started forming. She was alone because they would have simply grown apart from her, changed from before, and they wouldn't like her anymore. Why would they? They're probably heroes and she's... well... look at her, she was in prison for being a villain. How could she think of being friends with them?

"You think that you've missed out on too much and that you've grown apart from everyone that you knew, is that right?" He concluded, summing all her feelings up in one sentence.

She agreed with his deduction. "I don't have anyone else if they hate me... They were all I have left... there wasn't another person like them other than my m-mother..."

"Your mother..." he mentioned in a tender tone. "Was she a person you could relate to and that you felt safe and loved with?"

"Yes... but she died a long time ago..." Because of her.

The Doctor apologized after that. "I'm very sorry to hear that. It sounds like this is really tough. And I mean dying and then... suddenly not being dead, that's something no one can really imagine, and it sounds like a really horrible situation to be in. So over the last few days... was there something that kept you going? That somehow helped you make it through the day? Or even before you died, was there something that helped you keep going?"

What got her through? Simply the fact that she deserved all this pain and suffering, and that she hadn't repented long enough yet. Or maybe it was the dim hope she saw somewhere and was trying to search for through the darkness of her world... "I kept thinking of just getting through it... that I've been through worse..." She liked to give herself the illusion that there were still people there for her. That things could be better. "That there were still others there for me... that it'll change and it was just a bad dream. B-but... i-it's hard... because I know there is no one for me... nothing has changed since the 9 years I've started hoping... even after death, it's never changed..."

The Doctor shook his head, before getting closer to the table and leaning a little bit nearer her. With a calm and gentle voice, he sounded "Okay. It's okay, it happens that those things that keep us going stop working. It doesn't mean you need to give up. We can see if we can find a few ways to work through this together, okay?" He then changed the topic. "Different question: Did you have any hobbies before you died? Anything that relaxed you?"

She thought back to the few times she started remembering in her cell. "I... I like listening to music... drawing... writing... reading I think too..."

"I'll make sure that you can somehow do that again while you're locked up in here. Honestly, if I was in your situation I would have gone insane a long time ago and that's just from being locked up in this horrible place without anything to do.

So, going back to the interrogation. Were you able to remember anything more than before? Did anything come back to you?"

"I tried... most were fuzzy... I only got... small things... elementary school... some things people have said about me..." Freak. Villain's Quirk. Useless.

The blonde stopped, picking up his notepad again. "Can you tell me what it was that you remembered? Doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense or if it's fuzzy, sometimes it just helps to put things into words to make meaning of them."

"One was when... umm... s-someone said that I had a villain's quirk... I remember what was my favorite color... and I think I remembered a stuffed animal's name... mostly stuff from childhood..." Her favorite color was black, and her stuffed animal's name was Coffee, because the name was pre-given to the stuffed cat, and both of those reminded her of Shota.

"What was your favorite color?"

"Erm... black..." she spoke blandly.

"I see. Well my favorite color is green. More so a light, mint green. Mostly because it reminds me of an animal I really like. Why's black your favorite color?" The question made her flush in slight embarrassment. It was such a silly reason why it was her favorite color.

"I- black... because it was Eraserhead's color..."

"Eraserhead meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Shota was everything to her.

"Yeah..." She was in love with Shota. Shota had given her everything she wanted. He's made her feel safe, loved, appreciated, and then...

"And when you were talking to him now during the interrogation, how do you think that went?"

He hated her, didn't he? That same thought she had right after Shota had left the interrogation room, it lingered in her mind again, because she knew he did.

"H-he... I don't think he likes me very much..." she murmured quietly, frowning sadly after saying the sentence. Why would he? He had no reason to ever like her after meeting her like this... fifteen years later... after she died and killed herself...

Sorry Shota. You must have been so alone and hurt...

"Yes, I had a similar impression. And correct me if I'm wrong, but are you feeling very lost right now? Like you don't know where you belong and if you even belong? Like you have so much to catch up on, but no time to do it?" The Doctor seemed to have read her mind, because that was exactly how she felt. She was lost, and confused, she was thrusted into a world and reality she wasn't supposed to be after death, and she didn't know what was going on most of the time.

"T-that's... yes." Her body began to shake in how distressed she was.

The blonde male gazed at her for a while, observing her in a kind manner. "It's alright if you need to cry, there's no need to hold back or anything. I can't imagine the kind of strain that situation puts you under. And being in a prison and not really knowing what for... it's hard, isn't it?"

It has been so hard. She didn't know what she was saying next, but her lips opened on their own. "Something i-in my mind... has told me that I've always done something wrong. I-It could have been the time that I had l-lied... when I said that I was fine... o-or when I got a bad g-grade on a test... that I-I always deserved something b-bad... maybe... 'm... paying for what I-I did..." She answered truthfully and heartfeltly. She closed her eyes as she waited for him to agree. To say that, yes, she did deserve everything, and that it was her fault. That she was just being pathetic and weak. Something that told her she was in the wrong, because she was, all of it, it was her fault.

"L/N... you're not paying for anything. None of what happened is your fault and I don't think it is your fault. Whatever happened to you before you died, none of that is your fault. Being in prison now... you weren't even aware of what you were doing, so I don't think any of it is your fault. I'll make sure to make that very clear in court when the time comes, okay?"

How could he give her so much hope? For what?

Why wasn't he seeing the bigger picture? She was so much worse than anybody... how could he look at her like she mattered? She didn't... "I-I... w-what about those p-people that I-I've killed... t-they d-didn't d-deserve it..."

He took a deep breath in first. "We'll figure that out when we get there, okay? We'll take it one step at a time. Here's what we're going to do the next few days. We'll try some ways to possibly get your memories back. I'm not sure what will work, but I was thinking of trying hypnosis or using electrical currents on certain parts of your brain, so you'll hopefully be able to remember all those repressed memories. There's no need to worry, everything is perfectly safe and it won't hurt, okay?

And once we have that, we'll talk about what happened during all those years. And I'm sure we'll find out that none of what you did is your fault, Y/N. The kind of damage to your brain looks like a deliberate effort to sever your long-term memory into two distinct parts that aren't able to communicate with each other. Whatever happened to you, it looks like someone did this on purpose. So you're not in the wrong here. Something terrible happened to you and we'll find out what it was and we'll work through it, okay?"

No... why... can't you see that she doesn't matter?

"T-thank you so much..."

"You really don't need to be scared, even though all this might seem terrifying to you. We'll take all the time we need and we'll take it one step at a time. I'll be there all the way and if there is ever anything you need to talk about, I'm always here, okay? I care about you, Y/N, and I want you to feel better. No one should feel the way you're feeling right now." He said it in the softest tone someone's ever spoken to her.

He cares about her?

She bobbed her head in gratitude and acknowledgement.

"Is there anything else on your mind you want me to talk about right now? Anything that worries you, anything at all?"

Shota. Is Shota okay?

"Er... h-how is Shota doing? I mean... Eraserhead of course..."

The psychologist grinned lightly. "He is doing well. He works two jobs, hero work and his teaching job at UA. Would you like to talk to him again? That could be arrangeable I believe."

Y/N quickly shook her head. Not like he would want to see, would he? "He teaches? I-It's okay... I don't think he would be willing to t-talk to me again... especially after the interrogation."

"He does. I'm not sure on the details, to be honest. If you would like to talk to him again, let me know. It's all up to you. Sometimes it's good to get some closure, but only when you feel ready."

Why is he being so nice...?

"Thank you... I'm sorry if I'm annoying..."

He chuckles and shakes his head side to side. "Don't worry about it, you're not annoying, I promise. With all of these questions, you would think I am the annoying one."

"A-are you sure? I feel like I'm bothering y-you," Y/N retarted back with worry.

"You're not, so don't think about it. So here is the plan for the next few days. Tomorrow afternoon we'll try and get some of your memory back. Until then I'll try and get you pen and paper as soon as possible, maybe also some books and a radio if I can get it. What I want you to do is to just sit down and draw or write whatever comes to mind, no matter if it makes sense or not. When you're feeling upset, draw or write or listen to music. And if you can, think of one or two things in the morning that you're looking forward to or that you feel grateful for. It can be the smallest thing, really. Just anything that makes you at least a little bit happy. Can you do that for me?"

"I-... I think I can do that..."

"Good. If you ever need to talk to me, just ask for me. I basically live here with how much hours I work here. If you would like, I can take a few books from my shelf before I bring you back to your shelf. Would you like that? Just so you don't get bored."

So... nice...

"I-I'd... I'd like that... thanks..."

"Alright. Please stay here, I will be back in a second."

With that, the Doctor quickly stood up, almost in a rush or a burst of excitement, and he sped away. Moments later, she heard the clacking of fast shoes against the ground before the blonde male came back with a few thick textbooks relating to neurology.

"Alright, are you ready to go back to your cell?"

"Yes."

Thank you.

A/N: How you guys liking the Doc? Super sorry for the long wait! I'll try to be better.