I'm Fine... || BTS x (Female) Depressed/Suicidal Reader (TBC)

Missing Person (I) ⚠️Self-harm⚠️

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Missing Person

Full Name: F/N L/N
DOB: April 10, 1995
Age: 18
Height: 5'8.5"
Weight: 101 lbs.
Race: Y/R
Hair: Short and Y/H/C
Missing From: Charles Street and Andrea Rae Street
Missing Since: June 3, 2013

"Y/N has been missing for 2 months, the last time she was seen was at her parents' house in her bedroom. We will reward her finder $2,500 in cash. 'If you see her, please contact us, we miss her so much. We love her and we just want her back...'"

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    That's all I'd seen for two months straight. Posters everywhere of me. My name, age, how long I had been missing, and more importantly; the lie that was on every single one of them. My parents didn't miss me, they just abused me and had for years, ever since I was little. They didn't love me, that was just a total lie, they just wanted me back so I could be their slave again, and something they could tease and take their anger out on. I'm the one who loved them, at least I thought I did...All I had left at this point in my life was my sanity, which I barely had any left, my razor blade, my cuts, my scars and bruises, my phone and earbuds, my sketch journal, my rechargeable tattoo pen, and the occasional irritating voices in my head that told me to just end it already. But luckily for me, they didn't come out very often.

    Just one more and that's it... I thought, Just one more scar wouldn't hurt, would it? I questioned myself as I pulled my razor blade out of my pocket and held it to my wrist as I kept walking, No...No more, I have too many already. I just need to stop. I thought as I sat on a curb in front of a little store with the razor blade still in my hand. But, it does feel good... I thought once more as I placed the blade on my wrist again, ready to drive it into my skin. I didn't question it a third time, I closed my eyes as I was ready to feel the short pain of the blade piercing my skin. I slowly pressed it down into my skin and just as I thought; I felt the pain. You'd think I would be used to the pain by now considering how many times I've done it. "Shit..." I muttered as I slowly started to drag it across my wrist. I just watched as my skin was being split open from the blade and blood came from the wound. I looked around to make sure there was nobody watching me because people usually think people who cut are crazy, at least I thought that's what I got from it. I knew my friends in middle school thought I was crazy when they accidentally found out about who I actually was on the inside, though, fortunately, they didn't snitch on me to any of the teachers, nurses, administrators, or the principal. While I was lost in my thoughts, I rolled up my sleeve and started to make another cut, this one a little longer than the first as I remembered the time when I got into a fistfight with a bastard that kept stealing stuff out of my locker, we both got good hits in on each other until I hit him so hard I knocked him unconscious and was scolded by the principle. "That son of a bitch deserved it..." I mumbled as I pulled the blade back and made a third cut, which was deeper than I originally intended but as long as it numbed the pain, I was what you could call happy.

    "Are you fucking kidding me?! Did you seriously spend fifty-five dollars on a fucking hoodie? I could have bought a shit load of food for us at that price!" someone yelled from inside the store.

    "I'm sorry! I just thought it would be nice for me to have at least one piece of new clothing for once!" another man yelled. I heard a few grunts so I assumed that the first guy had shoved the guy trying to apologize. I tried not to eavesdrop because what they were arguing about was none of my business, but when you have two guys yelling at the top of their lungs just a wall away from you, trying not to hear the conversation isn't that easy.

    "What kind of excuse is that?! I let you buy new clothes all the time like I am right now with my money! I just thought you wouldn't buy a hoodie for that much!" I guessed the first guy yelled back. They were probably some drunk teenagers getting into one of those 'after-party fights that are over the smallest things', so I just continued to cut at my wrist while my thoughts wandered. I kept remembering my old life before I ran away, even though I lived it, it amazed me how people could be so cruel to their children. My parents weren't the nicest people like I had said; they treated me like a slave and a punching bag. Just the thought of them made me want to punch something, not to mention all the fake missing person posters they had made acting like they gave any fucks about me little did everyone know how they really were... You could think the nicest people in the world are saints and could do no wrong, but they are the ones that are wrong; in my experience, it's the nicest people you could think of that are the psychopaths, they just pretend to be nice so people won't suspect that they're actually people who try to abuse and use their seven-year-old child for anything that they would need, sometimes even committing unspeakable acts that normal people wouldn't even think of doing, at least the good people. A few minutes later, I was almost ready to make my sixth cut on my wrist when I heard a loud bang causing me to jump into a standing position on guard for my own protection in case I needed to kill someone, it was the two guys that were arguing from inside the store.

(1,042 Words)