natasha x daughter one shots

all we do ( part one )

warnings: self harm, suicide, vomit

age: 15

-

NATASHA's POV

"I know you've done it again, Y/N. It's okay, baby. I'm not mad at all," I tell my daughter through her shut bathroom door.

She's been in there for around an hour now and my mind immediately thought of the worst case scenario. At first I thought she was just taking a shower and that's why she was taking so long - but after a while I realized that there was no water running.

Y/N's been cutting for a few months now, and every time I've been there to clean her up and reassure her she'll be okay. But lately her mental health seems to have declined rapidly and she's started hurting herself a lot more.

After a little vocal guidance from me, I see the door handle being pushed down and seconds later, my daughter standing there with tears streaming down her face and blood dripping off her thighs, falling all the way down her legs.

"Oh, detka. Come on, I'll lift you up, yeah?"

Once she's situated onto the counter, I start gathering supplies from the drawers to clean her.

"Can you please not?" she asks me through her incessant sobs.

"I have to, babe. Lemme take care of you," I tell her and place a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"This is gonna sting a little, alright?" She nods.

I start off with wiping them with an antiseptic and she winces straight away at the contact.

"I'm so sorry, my love. It won't last long."

-

Y/N is now all cleaned up and she insisted I snuggle her in bed - and I wouldn't have it any other way. So now she's practically on top of me, her head buried in the crook of my neck and her cries have turned into soft sniffles.

"Honey, what can I do to help you? Don't think I haven't noticed how bad it's gotten, I know you're struggling. What do you need?" I ask now that she's calming down.

"I have to... stop being in pain every minute of the day because I can't... survive like this," she tells me in a raspy voice.

"But I don't know how," she continues.

"Well, we could maybe get you into therapy? Would that be something to consider?"

She takes a minute to ponder on my question. It's a big thing to think about - I don't even know if she wants to get better. I hope she does of course, but recovery isn't something you can force onto someone. If their heart isn't in it, it's not happening.

"No. I don't wanna do therapy."

The way she speaks is almost painful. You can literally hear how much she's suffering just from the tiredness in her voice. She's exhausted, she doesn't want to do it anymore.

"You're seriously hurting, aren't you, my love? You can't take the pain anymore, can you?" I question, but I know the answer already. I just need confirmation so we can talk about it.

Without saying another word, she simply shakes her head 'no' and bursts into tears for the second time this evening.

I waste no time in pulling her against my chest again and holding her close.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, baby. Mama's gonna help you, okay? Everything will be okay, I'm right here. I've got you, lovey. You're gonna get through this. We are gonna get you through this."