NO COPYRIGHT INFRIGMENT INTENDED ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS!
Trigger Warning: Self-harm, implied eating disorder
The Winchesters were out, they had been on a hunt for the past couple of days. You weren't worried though, you had talked to Sam when he had checked in to make sure you were alright and to tell you that they wouldn't be back for another couple of days. They were off in Virginia hunting vampires or something. You had declined from going with them because you felt a though you didn't have the strength. It was like a thick layer of heavy material had been weighing you down the past couple of weeks, making everything so much harder. You had found yourself willingly putting yourself in the line of fire not because you were this hero who wore a halo and saved the day but because you wanted to hurt, you wanted to feel that extraordinary release of pain that you had craved ever since you were 12 and cut yourself for the first time with a broken pencil sharpener. No, you had declined from this misadventure because you were brutally aware of how your self-destructive mind could have repercussion on Dean and Sam, like them getting injured or worse.
You were sitting in the bunker, reclining into the one of the chairs with your legs crossed on the table, you were reading as usual. Your nose deep in the latest instalment of your favourite series. You looked up thinking, suddenly, about how you had lied to Sam earlier when he had asked you how you were you had said the lamest thing "I'm perfectly fine, Sam, nothing to worry about" which of course is an outright lie. Hint: when someone tells you that there is nothing to worry about there is almost defiantly something to worry about. The boys had known something wasn't quite right with you. You didn't laugh as much and your long sleeves were pulled up over your hands as though you were afraid of what lied beneath. Your simile usually light up rooms had become a lacklustre light. You hadn't been sleeping and your diet consisted of cups of tea and can soups. You couldn't even bring yourself to cover up the way you felt anymore you stared into space so more often than not the boys had to repeat things two or three times before you heard them.
You had never stopped cutting, not really, you had just gotten better at hiding it. You had learnt how to self-harm in unmarked ways like standing in scorching hot showers and not eating long enough for the hunger pains to set in. Voices in your head screamed so loudly that you couldn't hear your own logic as it drowned it tortured screams of your depression. You just wanted the voices that told you to hurt yourself to go away. You knew it wasn't healthy, you knew that. For some reason or another it just didn't register in that messed up brain of yours. And you figured why did it matter? You were only hurting yourself right?
Thinking about this had made the urge unbearable, you had to cut now. You hastily got up and ran to your bedroom pulling out a metal tin and pulled of the lid with such strength and desperation your shaky hands dropped the round tin. The tin fell to the ground with a loud crash, spilling out the bloody tissues you had hidden there from last time and the sliver metals blades covered in dried blood were now scattered across the floor. You reach down, slowly, almost as if you are in a trance and you pick up the blade closest to you as you rise you place the blade against your wrist. You have a moment of hesitation, it was like the moment you realised the storm would end.
You quickly press the blade down and scrape it against your skin and you do it again.
And again.
And again.
There is now a flowing stream of red dripping from your wrist your tense shoulders slump in defeat and you breathe heavily but calmly. You watch with some sick form of fascination at the red ribbon coming out your arm. You cut again and a few more times after that indulging in the relief it gave you.
-20 minutes later-
After you had patched yourself up and began to clean up the puddle of scarlet blood on the tile floor it hit you in one four letter word beginning with 's'. The boys would be home in a couple of days and they could always tell when you were lying and they were almost certainly going to figure out what is going on with you. You kept berating yourself until you came up with a plan to avoid that awkward and unnecessary intervention.
SAM AND DEAN WILL BE RETURNING SOON I PROMISE MAYBE EVEN CAS!
ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING
;)
Constructive criticism is wanted and welcome.