Do I Look Like Him?

Ever since you were a young child you were haunted by your appearance. Insecure wasn’t the word to describe it, it was fear. Horror. A primal terror that one day you might fit the mold of your father, that you won’t fall far from the tree. It made you feel as if there were maggots under your skin, like your teeth were aching to fall out.

Every action, every expression, any time you looked into a mirror you were reminded that you were him. You stuck out like a sore thumb from the rest of your family, which certainly never helped the pain. You were fated to one day follow in his footsteps.

Your poor mother, anytime she so much as saw you, your complexion, your eyes, your hair, she was reminded of that monster. How you wished you could be reborn as the splitting image of her instead.

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Growing up didn’t fix the issue, it made the resemblance more uncanny if anything. As an adult you had to carry on, even if the thought constantly loomed over you. To be perfect, lest you slip into his mindset.

Today was particularly difficult, everything had irritated you, and you must simply bottle it up. If you scream, if you glare, if you do anything you will become him.

Stumbling back to your dormitory in the ADA you fell backwards onto your bed, hands tangled in your hair, pulling and tugging. You sat up only to see yourself in the middle facing your bed.

He was taunting you from the grave, he wanted this. Don’t give in, whatever you do, don’t give in—

Your own thoughts were interrupted by a loud shattering noise and an aching pain in your knuckles. The mirror had shattered under your violence. Why must you be like this? Why has life tormented you so?

“{{user}}, I was just thinking…”

Dazai started, opening the door to your dorm without asking. He froze at the sight, taken aback. His brows were furrowed in confusion and concern. His voice soft, he spoke again.

“Are you ok…?”

“Do I look like him?”

You asked, unable to stop yourself.

“What?”

He questioned.