TMNT One-Shots

Donnie x Suicidal!Reader: Safe

A/N: So I am writing this for all my Suicidal readers. This is not suppose to be romanticizing being suicidal, but if it turns out that way I apologize and I will make a large attempt to fix it.  Also, this will contain details of blood/self-harm/etc. so read at your own risk! THIS IS A WARNING! << It could be potentially triggering, so please read at your own risk. Please. Be careful. Don't get mad about it later, please, I warned you.. Also.. THIS THING WAS OVER 6000 words! I AM SSO PROUD OF MYSELF RIGHT NOW! So please enjoy!

Your POV

It needed to stop.

You knew this.

Still, that didn't stop you from sliding the dull blade across your wrist again and again and again. It didn't keep you from contemplating if you wanted to die quickly and painlessly by overdosing or if you wanted to punish yourself for all the wrong things you have done (that honestly weren't too bad but you still felt like they were the most God-awful things that ever happened). Knowing how bad this was for yourself didn't change a thing, and the (very few) people who knew this just didn't seem to understand  this crucial bit of information.

There were plenty of people that loved you. It wasn't like you didn't know your mother loved you, or your older brother (even if he seemed to hate you sometimes) or even your father. You had great friends and you knew they would be there for you within a phone call. You didn't want attention - it just wasn't your thing - that wasn't why you did it. You didn't even completely understand it yourself.

And that was the worst part.

Knowing how awful it was. How selfish it was to want to die every single day with the extremely rare occasion of telling yourself it was actually a pretty OK day. That your life could be much, much worse, and yet the scars on your body told otherwise. It was addicting. The thoughts you had were so cruel, so dangerous, and yet you didn't know how to stop them. Even though you knew, you told yourself that it had to stop, that was about as useful as a heater in the middle of a scorching summer day.

With a sigh, you finally put up your blade, staring at the blood running down your wrist for a moment, more tears slipping silently down your cheeks. I'm so sorry for letting you guys down again, you think to yourself brokenly, feeling guilty for letting everyone down by giving in and cutting again. The tears hit your wrist, mixing in with the blood and causing it to run more. Unable to stand looking at the horrible slits that would leave ugly scars for the rest of your life, you got up from the bathroom floor and cleaned yourself up, still feeling the addicting sting from the blade.

Splashing some water on your face, you blinked a few times and practiced the most fake, genuine smile that you could muster up, even going as far as giggling at yourself. It was all too easy to pull yourself together. That was the tragic part. No one could ever tell. They said they could read you like an open book, and yet they didn't write the story. You did. You knew exactly what they were reading and knew the truth behind the story, knew the real meaning that they couldn't decode within your pages. A strange metaphor, but fitting for your situation.

"It's a new day.." You mumble to yourself as you get ready for school and comb through your hair before putting on a hoodie and a pair of jeans that you liked as well as your favorite pair of shoes. Just the usual attire. It wasn't anything new for you, really. You pick up your backpack that was full of school books and homework that was completed (well, unless you forgot about some of it again that is), and slung the bag over your one shoulder, too lazy to put the other strap on.

Despite your rather sour mood, you forced a smile on your face as you walked out of your room. "Morning mom, dad, (Y/b/n)." You call out to them, walking over to where your brother was at the door. He was going to be driving the two of you to school like he always did. Your brother had an idea of what you were going through, but at the same time he was just as clueless as everyone else was.