natasha x daughter one shots

you don't know

warnings: self harm, mentions of suicide

age: 15

-

Y/N's POV

"Baby, please," mom begs me whilst trying to reach for my arm.

"No! I don't want you to clean them!" I retaliate.

"They'll get infected, sweetheart, they're deep."

"So let them. I. Don't. Care."

"Y/N, give here."

I'm clearly not going to win this fight. Before I can refuse anymore, I feel my arm being pulled away from me with a gentle hand and some stinging from an antiseptic being used on my skin.

People always assume you want the help. They think you want to get better.

Well what if you don't?

What if you're so tired of fighting that you'd rather just stop altogether?

'It'll get better,' they tell you.

'This won't last forever,' is also a pretty common one.

If it's not gonna last forever, then why is it taking so long?

If it'll get better, why hasn't it?

"Mama, stop," I plead with tears in my eyes.

"I can't, honey. I have to make sure that they're taken care of," she explains softly but firmly.

"Please, mommy," I sob.

She takes a brief pause from working on my wounds to place a gentle kiss on my nose and wipe my tears away before resuming her actions.

I wince strongly at the antiseptic being put on what looks like the deepest cut. It went all the way to that white layer.

"Please stop," I continue crying.

-

After around thirty minutes of my mom ignoring my incessant protests, she finally finishes bandaging my arms.

I know she wasn't ignoring me to be mean - she was doing it because there was no exception to having them cared for.

Almost immediately after she lets go of me and walks into my bathroom to throw the wrappers for everything away, I start unwrapping the bandages as quick as I can.

"Detka, no," mama sighs as she walks back into my room and sees what I'm doing.

She's fast to hold onto my hands to stop me from doing what I am.

"Stop!" I shout in her face.

NATASHA's POV

"Sweetheart..." 

I'm not mad at her for yelling. In fact, I welcome it. It means she's getting her emotions out instead of bottling them all up.

"Don't touch them, they'll get infected."

"Good! I hope they do!" She stands up and continues to take off the bandages.

"Where is this coming from?" I ask, still keeping my voice quiet to show her I'm not mad.

"I don't wanna get better!" she wails before falling to her knees and absolutely breaking down.

"Baby?"

I instantly run up to my daughter and kneel down beside her, scooping her exhausted body into my lap. The bandage on her left arm is now halfway off but she didn't have enough time to make a start on the right one.

"It's okay, detka. Mama's got you, I promise. I'll hold you as long as you need."

-

"Are you okay to talk now, my little love?"

She gives a tentative nod and snuggles in further to me when I start lifting her to the bed so we'll be more comfortable.

"Alright. What do you mean you don't want to get better?"

"I'm tired, I can't do this!" She's starting to get worked up again and I can feel it.

"Okay, shhh. Settle down, baby. I need you to be calm for this conversation."

Once she's taken a few deep breaths and grounded herself, she starts talking again.

"I'm literally shattered, mama. I don't wanna do it anymore. I wanna go."

My heart breaks at what she's saying. How did I miss this?

How do I even respond? 'Y/N, I need you so you can't die'? That's selfish, it's not about me.

"What do you need right now? What's gonna keep you safe for the night before we talk to your therapist tomorrow?"

"I don't wanna go to her! I'll get put in psych!"

"You might," I tell her honestly. "But if you did, it would be what your therapist thinks is best for you. And she is the professional so she'll know what your most effective option is. My love, I want to help you... but this is something I do not know how to handle. And so I will stay with you all night to make sure you're okay. I just need to you tell me what you need of me."

She takes a little while to think of an answer.

"I need you to take all the pills out of my room. All the blades, too. Then just cuddle me and don't let go."

"Okay. But I don't want you getting up so you're staying on the phone with me whilst I go put them away."

"You'll literally be on the other side of the house-"

"Yeah but I need to know you're safe, so you're doing it."

With me not leaving any room for negotiation, Y/N simply sighs and I make sure to re-wrap her arm before going into her bathroom and taking all the listed items out, putting her on the phone and going to my room to put said items away.

-

"Come on, sunshine. We can cuddle now," I say, settling down on her bed next to her and holding her close.

"Go to sleep, detka. I've got you."