This writing will have cursing, harm to self, triggers, murder, and more. Warning.

This is nothing like the anima except for the character names and quirks

Mother remarried Koji a few years back, a rich politician who thinks he is that guy. Mom loves him so much, too much, if only she could see him behind his fake smile. The way he treats me when she's not around. His stupid face, stupid hands, that's all he is stupid, stupid, stupid. I don't understand what she sees in him. That is what love is, I suppose, ignoring their obvious flaws or turning them into something good.

You would think having a rich stepfather would be nice, that everything would be just fine and dandy, but you're so so very wrong.

That stupid face is a lie, he's nothing but the gum on the bottom of your shoe. The bell rings. Luckily, I got out quick enough to avoid Kacchan, this time just muttering to myself.

I get out of school, sigh with relief, and continue walking home from middle school, expecting Mom to be home by now. Koji is doing God knows what, probably drinking right before he comes home, so Mom misses him. I don't think she cares about it, though. Never mind; it's not important.

As long as she's happy, I put on my smile, but it fades as soon as I walk through the door to find Koji on the couch with puffy red eyes; Man, he looks pathetic; he's holding a beer in one hand, and phone in the other. He hangs up when he sees me standing in the doorway. All I can do is stare. I hate how he looks at me. I watch him stand up towering over me. The look of disgust, anger, and pain covered his face. Something is wrong.

"Where is mom? I thought she was supposed to be home"

I glance up at him confused. He doesn't drink this time of day, especially when Mom should be home soon. Well, that's a lie. He is never not drinking, just never when mom is around. Then again, what isn't with him is just a lie.

"Wouldn't you like to know,"

That smug look. You could practically smell the alcohol in his breath from across the room. Except he's standing over me like a panther about to pounce on its prey. I close the door and set my bag down next to it feeling his eyes on me as I do so. Trying not to gag at the Smell. I listen to him as he continues.

"Well, for your information, she is dead. She was f**king murdered by some random villain along with some random pieces of sh!t, so, the public can't know, so it's being labeled as a car crash. This is your fault if you weren't such a dang mistake-"

What?... She's dead. No, no, no, she can't be dead. My head throbs and my vision goes blurry. My chest hurts, I can't- I can't breathe. Someone, please help me. I don't want to be stuck with HIM. Mom, please don't leave me. I can't do this without you. My eyes sting as a wet substance falls from them. My mother isn't dead. This is a nightmare. It's just a nightmare. It's not real he's lying. He's a- a liar.

"YOU'RE A LIAR! LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!"

I hadn't even realized that I had run to my room and was now against the wall farthest from the door. I guess I lock the door too. My lip is bleeding. When did that happen? Maybe he did it when I yelled at him it's too much of a blur right now. Time passes a bit, and I'm calmer, still breathing a bit quickly, but Koji hasn't, yelling slurs at me through the door. Banging on it, while the door rattles. I choke out a sob as the realization washes over me, I have to stay with him. Him, Koji, the abusive, alcoholic. Both my parents are dead and I have no family I can go to. Besides the alcoholic stepfather. No, no, Mom will be home soon. This is just a sick prank.

He bangs on the door for what seems like hours till it goes silent. I take a deep breath and open the door. Maybe he's not mad anymore, maybe I can talk to him. I walk out, looking down the hall. It's quiet.

"Koji...? "

I called out to him, but with no response, I assumed he had left for the bar. Alcoholic. I go to the kitchen and find Mom's case on the table, reading through it. Why is her file on the table like this? I mean maybe they gave him a copy because of him being high up the chain. I begin looking at every detail over and over again. This looks real. These are all given factual evidence or proof; then it clicks: it's real; I wasn't dreaming. I turn through the pages. Again and again, the same thing showed: She's dead. She's dead? She's dead!

“My mother is dead..."

All that's left is the loud silence and bright darkness that closes in, consuming me and leaving me only to my thoughts.