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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

WARNINGS:

Depression

Mentions of Self-Harm

Suicide Attempt

You couldn’t stop crying.
You had your knees pulled up close to your chest, your face buried deep within them, as you struggled to breath.
“I-I d-don’t understand!” You sobbed loudly, scaring your cat who purred up against you in comfort, “I don’t want! J-Just let me die al-already!”
You wiped your tears and snot against your sleeve. You just wanted all of this to stop. Just one day when you didn’t feel the emptiness, the numbness, thenothingness. The only way you would gain that comfort was if you triedagain. You didn’t have the energy to do it. You were tired. And it wasn’t the kind the sleep could fix.
Your phone buzzed beside you, indicating that you got a new message. You managed to stop crying as you wiped your face, again, and grabbed it.
FROM: Brucie 💙
Where are you?
RECEIVED: 8:21pm
Oh yeah, I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. You sniffled and replied.
TO: Brucie 💙
I’m not coming. I don’t feel so well 😣
SENT: 8:21PM
And then you waited. And waited. And waited.
You expected a reply, but when you didn’t get one you felt yourself begin to cry, again.
It’s not like you didn’t want to go, but you physically couldn’t. Your body wouldn’t move from its spot on the bathroom floor. You were reminded of what surrounded you; a bottle of pills and an old razor. Old habits love to come crawling back. You clenched your eyes shut and let out a breathy yell. Your fingers grasped your hair, pulling it here and there. “Just stop it!” You rocked back in forth, unable to stop yourself from what came out of your mouth. You were a puppet controlled by yourself. “Stop being so pathetic! Stop crying! Why won’t you stop fucking crying!” Another yell.
Then silence.
Time seemed to slow as your hand reached out for the bottle of pills– antidepressants–with a tired look. You snorted at the irony. You weren’t going to. You couldn’t; your hand moved on its own, trying to unscrewing lid. It wouldn’t budge which only made you more frantic. You stood up, banging the bottle on the counter with rage. “Why won’t you open?” Your voice echoed off the bathroom walls.
You didn’t stop, not even when you heard a door being opened or when someone called out your name. You weren’t in your right mind to understand what you were even doing. You just wanted it to stop.
The bathroom door opened with a start, nearly startling you, revealing someone you didn’t expect to see. Bruce was quick to wrap his arms around you, yanking the bottle of pills out of your hands, and pulling you out of the bathroom as you kicked and thrashed in his hold.
“Let me go!” You tried pushing him away only for his grip to tighten around you.
He held you close, his heart beat racing, and his breathing raged. You broke, right then and right there. You moved to burry your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing into him as you held onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s okay,” He said, his voice scratchy, “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” You gripped him tighter, “I don’t want this anymore, Bruce! Why do I have to be like this? I just want it to stop!”
He sighed, “I know, Y/N, I know.”

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

WARNINGS:

Depression

Mentions of Self-Harm

Suicide Attempt

You couldn’t stop crying.
You had your knees pulled up close to your chest, your face buried deep within them, as you struggled to breath.
“I-I d-don’t understand!” You sobbed loudly, scaring your cat who purred up against you in comfort, “I don’t want! J-Just let me die al-already!”
You wiped your tears and snot against your sleeve. You just wanted all of this to stop. Just one day when you didn’t feel the emptiness, the numbness, thenothingness. The only way you would gain that comfort was if you triedagain. You didn’t have the energy to do it. You were tired. And it wasn’t the kind the sleep could fix.
Your phone buzzed beside you, indicating that you got a new message. You managed to stop crying as you wiped your face, again, and grabbed it.
FROM: Brucie 💙
Where are you?
RECEIVED: 8:21pm
Oh yeah, I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. You sniffled and replied.
TO: Brucie 💙
I’m not coming. I don’t feel so well 😣
SENT: 8:21PM
And then you waited. And waited. And waited.
You expected a reply, but when you didn’t get one you felt yourself begin to cry, again.
It’s not like you didn’t want to go, but you physically couldn’t. Your body wouldn’t move from its spot on the bathroom floor. You were reminded of what surrounded you; a bottle of pills and an old razor. Old habits love to come crawling back. You clenched your eyes shut and let out a breathy yell. Your fingers grasped your hair, pulling it here and there. “Just stop it!” You rocked back in forth, unable to stop yourself from what came out of your mouth. You were a puppet controlled by yourself. “Stop being so pathetic! Stop crying! Why won’t you stop fucking crying!” Another yell.
Then silence.
Time seemed to slow as your hand reached out for the bottle of pills– antidepressants–with a tired look. You snorted at the irony. You weren’t going to. You couldn’t; your hand moved on its own, trying to unscrewing lid. It wouldn’t budge which only made you more frantic. You stood up, banging the bottle on the counter with rage. “Why won’t you open?” Your voice echoed off the bathroom walls.
You didn’t stop, not even when you heard a door being opened or when someone called out your name. You weren’t in your right mind to understand what you were even doing. You just wanted it to stop.
The bathroom door opened with a start, nearly startling you, revealing someone you didn’t expect to see. Bruce was quick to wrap his arms around you, yanking the bottle of pills out of your hands, and pulling you out of the bathroom as you kicked and thrashed in his hold.
“Let me go!” You tried pushing him away only for his grip to tighten around you.
He held you close, his heart beat racing, and his breathing raged. You broke, right then and right there. You moved to burry your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing into him as you held onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s okay,” He said, his voice scratchy, “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” You gripped him tighter, “I don’t want this anymore, Bruce! Why do I have to be like this? I just want it to stop!”
He sighed, “I know, Y/N, I know.”