Idk I wrote this in like 30 mins...
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TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM
When Demi suggested that you invite your parents over for dinner, you said yes right away, thinking that you were over the way they had treated you while growing up. You couldn't have been more wrong. As you sat on the couch next to Demi listening to her converse with them, you felt intense anxiety start to build within you. You tried taking deep breaths, but it didn't seem to work. All you could think about was how overbearing and critical they had been, and controlling of your every move. They had driven you to self harm, not even offering help when they found out you were struggling.
'Take deep breaths' you reminded yourself. You needed a distraction right now. The faster your heart beat the more your hands craved cool metal to slice across your skin. Demi didn't notice the struggle you were currently going through, something you were glad for. The last thing you needed right now was for her to bring up your anxiety around your parents.
By the time Demi suggested serving dinner, you were practically shaking. It was getting harder and harder for you to breathe, but you smiled anyway and agreed. You took your spot at the table, clenching your fork as though your life depended on it. You added to the conversation every now and then, but you couldn't take it anymore. When your mom asked how the job search was going you completely lost it. Jumping up, you mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and practically ran to the stairs.
You stumbled into the bedroom and went straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Demi and your parents probably heard it, but right now you couldn't care less. At this point you were gasping for air, hands visibly trembling. Your heart felt like a drum in your chest as you desperately searched for a razor in the drawers. “Fuck yes” you breathed out as your hands grabbed onto an unused one. Not thinking twice about sanitation, you dropped it on the floor and stomped on it so you could get a blade.
Kneeling on the ground, you picked up one of the thin blades, cutting your fingers in the process. It didn't matter. You pressed it to your left wrist and let out a relieved sigh as the blade sliced through the delicate skin. One cut wasn't enough, so you cut and cut until you were free of all anxiety. Tears sprung to your eyes when you realized what you just did.
Over a year of hard work down the drain in less than 5 minutes. All because you had let the mere presence of your parents trigger you. They didn't even say anything wrong, your mom had asked about work out of pure curiosity. How pathetic of you to let an innocent question push you over the edge. You watched the blood drip off of your arm, counting over 9 cuts.
Burying your face in your hands, you began to cry. All the self hatred that you had once harbored came flooding back, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Over a year of being over your issues and here you were again. There was no way you could go downstairs again. It was a hot summer day, and everyone would question you if you wore a long sleeve. Especially Demi. Thinking of how disappointed she would be in you if she was aware of what you did just made you cry harder. You didn't deserve her. You didn't deserve anything.
“Y/N? Is everything okay?” Demi's voice questioned on the other side of the door. Your eyes snapped over to the lock, cursing silently when you saw that you didn't lock the door. “J-just feeling a little sick. D-dont come in D-Demi” you said, wincing at the sound of your voice. Anyone would be able to tell that you're crying.
She didn't respond, so you thought she went back down. Just as you were about to get up to try and clean off the doorknob starting turning. Your heart skipped a beat. You should've locked it. There was no way you could hide what you had done. Your arm was covered in blood, along with a few drops on the floor and smeared on your top. Not to mention the bloody blade laying by your feet.
“Y/N...” Demi gasped as she saw the state you were in. You avoided making eye contact with her, too ashamed of yourself. Fresh tears began to run down your face, and it seemed like the harder you tried to stop crying, the more you cried.
Demi knelt down in front of you, grabbing your chin gently and forcing you to look at her. “Baby, what happened?” You searched her eyes for any hint of anger or disappointment, and finding none, decided it was safe to talk. “My parents...I thought I would be fine but I just couldn't do it. I'm so sorry Demi...” you trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Demi sighed, as if she knew this was going to happen.
“Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I had a feeling something was wrong, so I asked them to leave. They're gone baby girl, it's okay now.”
Demi's attempt at reassuring you didn't work at all. It only made you feel worse, knowing your parents had to leave when they were probably looking forward to spending time with you. “It's not okay! I just wasted over a year of work! I'm so pathetic Demi.” She looked at you with sympathy in her eyes, reaching her hand up to wipe away your tears. At first you flinched away, but relaxed into her warm touch.
“I don't think your pathetic. Nobody does. Relapse is a part of recovery, you know that. I've done it and it's only made me stronger.” She looked down at your arm, frowning at the damage you caused. She helped you up and led you over to the sink, where she gently washed away all of the blood. “I don't think any of them need stitches, but I'm going to disinfect them before bandaging them” she muttered, pouring hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball. You squeezed your eyes shut as you anticipated the sting that was sure to come. “Sorry baby” Demi apologized as you flinched with each dab.
When she finished, she pulled you into a tight hug, careful to avoid your left arm. You nuzzled your face into her neck, breathing in her calming scent as she ran her fingers through your hair. “Please tell me next time. I can help you through it Y/N.”
You figured that if you talked you would just start crying, so instead you just nodded. Demi pulled away from you, making you miss her comforting warmth. She placed a needy kiss on your lips, as if she was scared that she could lose you at any moment. It was then that you decided to try your best to work things out with your parents. You hated how you felt, not yourself. And you knew that with Demi supporting you, you could do anything. You swore to yourself that this was the first and only time you would relapse. Demi was all you needed, nothing else mattered.
