Mentor or more? / Natasha Romanoff

Chapter Seven

Trigger Warning in advance. Mentions of abuse, eventually of depression ad self-harm, drug and alcohol use and maybe other trigger topics. This book is a place full of triggers and i beg you to please take care while reading and to stop if it gets too much for you.
Your PoV:

You wake up only to realise the two strong arms you had wrapped around you throughout the night were gone. It doesn't surprise you really, but for some reason it upsets you. You groan in pain as you move to get out of bed. Your head and ribcage are aching, even more than your back, your arms and your legs. There's muscles sore that you didn't even know they existed.
You grab your phone and walk downstairs slowly before entering the bathroom. You use the toilet, scroll through TikTok and do your usual routine. When you look into the mirror you start to think back to the events of the day before. How your mother used your guilt and shame to meet her, how she belittled and insulted you and how she hurt you. Tears start rolling down your face and your breathing gets heavier, more fast paced. For a while you just stand there, eyeing yourself in the mirror. Your hair is messy, almost gross, your teeth feel gross and the bags under your now puffy , red eyes are bigger than before. The frown that is plastered on your face and in addition the countless bruises and busted lip your mother caused you don't help either. But standing there, looking at yourself you barely recognise yourself. You try, you really do, but instead of brushing your teeth and hopping into the shower, you crawl back into your bed. Your thoughts are running and you just can't seem to get a clear view on things.

You just sit there the whole day. Occasionally Natasha chimes in for a minute, making sure you're okay, but she's always just met with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You're quieter than usual and your red eyes worry her. But she wouldn't dare to say a thing. You just went trough your personal hell. And she gets it.
This goes on for days, weeks even. Even after the others came back from their mission. You wouldn't really talk to Tony, wouldn't laugh for hours with Wanda, Pietro, Maria and Peter. You wouldn't try lifting Thor's hammer anymore. You kept isolating yourself from everyone. Natasha tried to get you to talk, to open up to her. But you always just pushed her away.

You want her close, at least that's what your body craves. The warmth of her body, the depth of her laugh, the security of her embrace. Theres nothing you wanted more these past weeks. But every kind of interaction was draining and exhausting.
Your self harm tendencies shot up again too. You tried to stop it, but it was kind of addicting.  Sliding the blade over your skin, again and again. watching the blood drip down your thighs and legs. It didn't fill you with joy or happiness. But it made you feel something at a time you were almost used to the numbness. You felt bad, for breaking your promise. But you just couldn't bare to look Natasha in the eyes. Not anymore. Instead you just kept cutting, occasionally switching to burning or scratching, sometimes even extremely hot showers.
It doesn't  really matter to you. You just want to feel something, anything really.

It's like you're in a hole that you can't climb out of. Like being stuck in the middle of an ocean, with nothing except water around. Like your lost in a dark Forrest, that you just can't get out of alone. You used to admire the darkness, saying that as soon as it turned light, the Forrest would be magnificent and beautiful, that as soon as you'd learn how to swim you'd be relaxing in the water, and that as soon as you got a rope you'd see so much more of the world. But what if its too late for all of that now?
You don't know how much time has passed since the accident with your mother. Could be weeks but could also be months. You haven't been to school and Tony keeps trying to get you into therapy, Natasha still knocks on your door and Wanda still messages you. It bothers you how much you must've hurt them, but it seem inevitable for you to do something else.
You scroll trough social media, trying to distract you but your content keeps getting darker and darker. You start seeing peoples self harm wounds, them showing of their scars or eating disorders, no shame in body checking at all or the ones advertising and romanticising drug abuse.