(Karmas Pov)

Shit. I messed up...what now?

"N-nothing. He just doesn't like me that's all...so its only natural he would get mad about me kissing someone." I blushed slightly, letting my fringe cover it.

"O-oh...well I guess you're right about tha-"

A loud rumbling noise filled the room, as my face turned an even deeper shade of red.

I heard a slight snicker, and a taunting tone.
"Someone's hungry. How longs it been since you eaten K-a-r-u-m-a? " He said my name like it was spelt.

"Wow. So you did read the Kanji on the prescription bottle."

"Well obviously. Karuma Akabane...and your middle name starts with an L...." I watched the bluenette stare intently at the ground. "Luciel...?"

"Correct. Lucky guess. And for that you get to make me food." I laughed, pulling myself up.

"I'm not good with cooking."

"I only want cereal. Can you handle that much Shiota?"
Wait...Shiota?! Why did I just call him Shiota...That must be...a memory..clearing up?...
He seemed to not take notice. Almost like calling him by a name he hadn't told me, seemed natural.

He never told me his last name. When I asked for his name, when I braided his hair, when I fed him...He only ever told me 'Nagisa'.

We got into the kitchen, half the cabenets open.
A glass smashed on the ground, water mixed with a red liquid spread across the counter.

"Woah, what happened here? Did you do this?"

I tugged my fingers tight on the end of my sleeves,  gulping at the mess.
"No. It probably happened during one of his episodes...He can be a little reckless. Just leave it."

I saw him glance over the the water, grabbing a piece of tissue, clearing up the red and transparent liquid.

I sat in the ripped chair, the wood hurting my back.

"What cereal?" He opened the cabinet with the cereal jusy by chance.

"You decide. I don't mind."

"Alright." He pulled out Cherrios. , then reached to the fridge for milk.

"What are you doing?" I laughed breathly, as he poured the milk in the bowl ,then the cereal.

"Making cereal."

"Are you a heathen? Who puts the milk in first?"

"1. No, I'm not a heathen. 2. I do and 3. Shut your face hole." He grunted, putting the cereal in front of me.

"Hm. My faviroute. You're quite lucky in guessing today. You got my middle name, my faviroute cereal, what's next? Wanna guess my faviroute colour?"

"Hmm...blue...?" He smirked.

"Now it's just creepy. Is their anything you don't know about me? How long have you been stalking me?" I smirked back.

"It's just a coincidence. Your personality, voice and actions remind me of an old friend I use to have." A faint smile appeared on his face.

(Nagisas pov)

"An old friend? Hm... Tell me about them."

I sighed, grabbing an apple, before sitting down.

"Well...I don't remember much about him in terms of his face, or his looks. Actually I don't really remember him at all. But you're kind of what I would imagine he was like. Minus the whole, MPD thing...except..." I went quiet for a moment. "He did have MPD..."

I saw Karmas eyes spark curiosity.

"Oh? You said he was your friend? Did you two hang out often."

"Yeah!" I quickly nodded. "We did alot of fun stuff! We first met because I offered to be his buddy on his first day of school. I will admit though...The only reason I offered at first was because I thought he looked pretty. He probably is pretty, not that I can remember."

"Pretty, huh?"

"Yeah. So after that we became very close. I could tell him anything and not worry about him judging or telling anyone else. It's like he was my stability. The one thing...The one person that stopped me from losing all hope when my mom..." I fell silent momentarly.

"You don't have to talk about it...I won't force you." He said, concern audible in his voice.

"No it's fine. My uh...my mom...She had a drinking problem...and she was also a bit of a control freak. She use to get drunk and...well...hit me...and just plainly yell at me... I was 13 when I met him...and that's the age were you kind of...start to try and take your life into your own hands...The age you learn that you can just...take your own life..."

"But then...?"

"He told me he wouldn't let me...He told me that...If I ever needed a reason to live...It would be him...And I think that's the point when I realised that I couldn't afford to loose him..." I stopped once more. 

"Keep going." he whispered.

Hesitantly I continued. "I wanted him by my side forever."

"But..." His voice deepened, and got a little quieter.

"But in the end...I did loose him...I lost him...and for a while..."

The sounds of sirens rang in my ears.

"I'm pretty sure I lost myself..." My eyes fell cold...wet. I felt the droplets trickle down my cheeks, dropping from my chin.

"Hey, don't start crying on me." He pressed his warm hand against my cheek, wiping my tears with his thumb. His soft, warm, comforting skin, caressing my cheek.
I turned my head a little, digging my face into the palm of his hand...

Perhaps I did it for the moment. Or maybe it was just because it was what my heart wanted to do.

If anyone could comfort me...I was happy it was him...

Him...

Flashback

"W-who am I? W-what happened?....W-where. "

"DOCTOR! PUTTING HIM TO SLEEP IN 3 - 2 -1--"

"I'm afraid the blow to the head has caused amnesia. Their are some short term, and some long term affects...as for the other boy-"

"I don't care about the other boy! I care about my son! And my son is not going to have anything to do with that boy ever again!"

"He saved his life...Ma'am please. This issue with the other boy could cause future issues. The other boy has a mental condition that could prove very fragile against the Injurys he recived-"

"Why should I care about a child who's not my own doctor?! Do I feed that boy?! Have I taken that boy into my home even once?! I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT A DISABLED-"

"Excuse me-- our son is not disabled."

"Oh and you're his parents?"

"He wasn't born disabled. He was born defective. Isn't that right doctor. Our son, our son with his mental illness was born defective."

"In a way...yes Ma'am..."--

Back to present.

That was the first conversation I heard in the hospital room when I woke up. I didn't know where I was, who I was.

After years of therapy I'm finally able to understand that conversation.

My mom pretending to care about my well being, pretending she hadn't hurt me before.

And his parents...calling him defective because he was different...

"He use to tell me...that his parents didn't treat him well either..." I began talking once again, the hand still on my face, now accompanied by a second one. "They would call him names because of his condition...and they would neglect him...sometimes even refuse to feed him...Sometimes they would even--"

"Leave him in a room for days on end and make him eat of the dirty floor like an animal..." He said quietly.

He knows. How does he know? I don't want to question it. Maybe he read it in the paper when the parents go arrested for mistreating a child...

I dare ruin the moment. The embrace between our two hearts, our souls hugging, connecting.

All was peaceful.  And if it was up to me, it could stay like this forever.

That was until the grip on my face tightened, nails digging into my cheeks.

Oh no...

"HEY BITCH! SHOULD I START BY QUESTIONING WHY YOU'RE NOT IN THE BASEMENT, OR SHOULD WE JUST HAVE SOME FUN?!"

I forget that this is my life now...wishing for any sings of hope...is pointless...

Woah author. Simmer down with the backstory. I gotta add character development somehow right?

Anyway, I realised alot of you guys message me, and have like general conversations with me about my books, or just anything really. And I just really appreciate it! My yandere story is my most viewed, followed by "The assassins code" and then this book. But this one is relatively new, so im not expecting much.

The topic of MPD is very fragile to me, because I do have it. It's also known as dissasociative identify disorder. I'm not suffering as much as Karma though. Writting this story has allowed me to blow of some steam about my condition and my past.

If you really read into it, you will notice that  in every one of my stories, my characters also deal with abusive and negelctive parents.

I have also gone through that for the past 15 years of my life.

My parents locked me in my room, chained to my bed, and fed me pot noodles like I was an animal, because I was defective and dissapointing.

This is because I suffer with alot of mental disorders.

MPD
Anxiety
PTSD
And I lack some human emotions. So much I could watch someone die and not feel anything. This will come up...eventually...

I have however gotten away from that situation, and now live happily with my grandparents. It feels good to put my heart and soul into my story's, it's like blowing of steam.

For anyone who read this far down, I appreciate it.

Keep being you! KEEP BEING FUCKING AWESOME. "defective" or not!

My insta (bc I realise I never told anyone) : @ / Kyoto.edits

BAI!!!